atmencan  jffien  of  letters. 


EDITED  BY 


CHARLES  DUDLEY  WARNER. 


3fimetiran  SJ?en  of  Hetterjr. 


GEORGE    KEPLEY, 


BT 


OCTAVIUS  BROOKS  FEOTHINGHAM. 


BOSTON: 
HOUGHTON,  MIFFLIN  AND  COMPANY. 

NEW  YORK:   11  EAST  SEVENTEENTH   STREET. 

$res& 

1883. 


Copyright,  1882, 
Bi  OCTAVIUS  BROOKS  FROTmNQIIAM. 

's  / 
All  right*  rwerred. 


The  Riverside  Press,  Cambridge  : 
Electrotyped  and  Printed  by  II.  0.  Houghton  &  Co. 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  L 

PAGE 

EARLY  DAYS.  —  MINISTRY    .  1 


CHAPTER  H. 
GERMS  OF  THOUGHT 94 

CHAPTER    III. 
BROOK  FARM 108 

CHAPTER  IV. 
BROOK  FARM. —  FOURIERISM 166 

CHAPTER   V. 
LABOR .199 

CHAPTER   VI. 
SORROW 226 

CHAPTER  VII. 

THE  NEW  DAY  ,    243 


VI  C0AJ/..WX 

CHAPTER    VIII. 

PAGI 

RECOGNITION 273 

CHAPTER  IX. 
THE  END ,295 


GEOEGE  EIPLET. 


CHAPTER  I. 

EAELY  DAYS.  —  MTNTSTR 

THE  purpose  of  this  memoir  is  to  recov< 
image  and  do  justice  to  the  character  of  a  re 
markable  man,  the  pursuits  of  whose  latter 
years  gave  him  little  opportunity  to  display  his 
deepest  convictions,  while  his  singular  charm  of 
manner  and  conversation  concealed  from  all  but 
those  who  knew  him  well  the  recesses  of  his  feel 
ings  ;  a  man  of  letters,  a  man  too  of  ideas  and 
purposes  which  left  a  broad  mark  on  his  age, 
and  deserve  to  be  gratefully  borne  in  mind. 

George  Ripley  was  born  in  Greenfield,  the 
shire  town  of  Franklin  County,  Massachusetts, 
—  a  fair  spot  in  the  Connecticut  Valley,  about 
ninety  miles  west  from  Boston,  —  on  the  third 
day  of  October,  1802.  He  was  the  youngest  but 
one  of  ten  children,  four  boys  and  six  girls,  all 
of  whom  died  before  him.  His  brother  Frank 
lin,  a  graduate  of  Dartmouth  College,  educat 
ed  as  a  lawyer,  and  for  many  years  cashier  of 
the  Greenfield  bank,  a  man  of  mark,  honored 
and  trusted,  died  in  1860.  His  dearly  beloved 
sister  Marianne,  a  woman  of  superior  mental 


2  GEORGE  RIPLEY. 

gifts,  as  well  as  of  the  highest  personal  quali 
ties,  closely  acquainted  with  many  prominent 
men  and  women  of  her  time,  an  engaging 
teacher,  and  an  earnest  fellow-worker  with  her 
brother  at  Brook  Farm,  died  at  Madison,  Wis 
consin,  in  May,  1868.  The  father,  Jerome  Rip- 
ley,  born  in  Hingham,  moved  from  Boston  to 
Greenfield  in  1789.  He  is  described  by  David 
Willard,  the  historian  of  Greenfield,  as  a  man 
"  \vliose  integrity  was  never  even  suspected  ;  of 
whose  virtue  and  uprightness  a  long  course  of 
years  leaves  no  question  ;  an  eminent  example 
of  the  beneficial  effects  of  steady  industry  and 
perseverance  in  one  calling,  and  of  minding 
one's  own  business."  He  was  a  merchant,  a 
justice  of  the  peace  nearly  fifty  years,  a  repre 
sentative  in  the  state  Legislature,  and  one  of 
the  justices  of  the  court  of  sessions.  The 
mother,  a  connection  of  Benjamin  Franklin 
(her  great-grandfather  was  Dr.  Franklin's  un 
cle),  was  a  good  example  of  a  New  England 
woman,  frugal,  precise,  formal,  stately,  reserved, 
but  kind  and  warm-hearted  at  the  core.  She 
was  Orthodox  in  religion  ;  her  husband  was 
Unitarian.  There  was  then  in  Greenfield,  a 
town  of  about  fifteen  hundred  inhabitants,  but 
one  church  ;  the  Second  Congregational  society 
having  been  formed  in  1816,  the  Third,  or  Uni 
tarian,  in  1825.  At  the  ordination  there,  in 


EARLY  DAYS.  3 

1837,  of  John  Parkman,  George  Ripley  took 
part. 

In  1831  Ezra  Stiles  Gannett,  returning  from 
a  visit  to  Greenfield,  writes :  "  I  have  always 
found  my  mind,  after  a  visit  to  this  place  or 
Connecticut,  in  a  very  different  state  from  what 
is  usual  at  home.  My  thoughts  are  more  di 
rected  to  the  subject  of  religion,  of  vital  and 
internal  piety.  Conference  and  religious  meet 
ings  are  common,  and  religion  seems  more  an 
e very-day  thing  than  with  us."  Six  years  later, 
in  1837,  Theodore  Parker  went  there.  The 
place  was  charming,  but  the  parish  was  not  at 
tractive.  The  meetings  were  held  in  a  court 
room.  There  were  five  societies  for  less  than 
two  thousand  people.  The  sectarian  activity  was 
greatly  in  excess  of  the  spiritual.  The  centres 
of  thought  were  distant ;  the  weekly  mail  from 
Boston  came  on  horseback.  George  Bipley  had 
pleasant  memories  of  his  early  life  in  this  de 
lightful  region.  A  little  more  than  a  year  be 
fore  his  death  he  affectionately  recalled  scenes, 
persons,  and  social  features  of  that  "  primitive, 
beautiful  country  life,"  but  he  went  there  sel 
dom,  as  his  thoughts  were  engrossed  by  larger 
concerns. 

He  began  his  education  at  the  public  school, 
a  good  one.  In  1838  there  were  seven,  show 
ing  a  remarkable  interest  in  education  for  so 


4  C/A  C/AC/A   Htl>LL  Y. 

small  a  community.  The  only  reminiscence  of 
his  early  mental  habits  is  a  frequently  expressed 
desire  to  "  make  a  dictionary,"  a  curious  an 
ticipation  of  his  future  employment.  At  Cam 
bridge  he  was  known  as  a  remarkably  handsome 
youth,  with  bright  piercing  eyes,  an  excellent 
scholar,  especially  in  the  languages  and  in  lit 
erature  ;  he  excelled  also  in  the  mathematics, 
which  afterwards,  during  part  of  his  stay  in 
Cambridge,  as  a  student  of  theology,  he  taught 
in  his  *college.  Twice  he  received  the  second 
Bowdoin  prize. 

HADLEY,  June  16,  1818. 

MY  DEAR  MOTHER,  —  ...  We  have  a  very  large 
school  this  term,  about  one  hundred  and  thirty.  Mr. 
Huntingdon  calculates  to  fit  me  for  college  before 
next  Commencement.  I  suspect  that  if  my  health  is 
good  I  can  read  the  Testament  and  ^linora  this 
term,  which  is  all  that  is  required  at  Yale.  To  fail 
is  absolutely  impossible.  In  haste, 

GEORGE  RIPLEY. 

HADLEY,  July  10,  1818. 

HONORED  PARENT,  —  ...  This  quarter  expires 
on  the  llth  of  August,  about  six  weeks  from  this 
time.  I  expect  then  to  have  studied  the  Minora  and 
•u-itlimetic.  There  will  then  be  only  a  fortnight  be 
fore  Commencement,  and  the  remaining  studies  which 
I  need  are  the  Greek  Testament  and  algebra  and 


EARLY  DAYS. 

ancient  and  modern  geography, 
perceive  that  it  will  be  impossible  for  me  toHbecome" 
acquainted  with  these  before  the  term  commences. 
I  may  perhaps,  with  hard  study  and  previous  calcula 
tions,  by  a  year  from  next  fall  be  fitted  as  a  Sopho 
more,  if  you  should  conclude  to  send  me  to  Cam 
bridge.  The  Commencement  at  Yale  is  the  second 
week  in  September,  with  a  vacation  of  six  weeks. 
All  that  I  shall  be  deficient  in  at  the  end  of  the  quar 
ter,  of  the  preparatory  studies  required  at  Yale,  will 
be  the  Greek  Testament.  A  knowledge  of  that  I 
could  easily  obtain,  and  before  the  commencement  of 
the  term  be  well  fitted  and  enabled  to  have  a  respect 
able  standing  in  the  class.  I  think  it  is  altogether 
necessary  for  me  to  know  what  arrangements  are 
made  respecting  me,  before  the  expiration  of  this 
term.  I  feel  grateful  that  you  are  willing  to  be  at 
the  additional  expense  of  educating  me,  and  I  hope 
that  I  shall  duly  appreciate  the  favor.  It  shall  be 
my  endeavor,  by  economy  and  self-denial,  to  render 
the  burden  as  light  as  possible.  But  I  feel  embold 
ened  to  make  the  request  that,  if  consistent  with  your 
inclinations  and  plans,  I  may  receive  an  education  at 
Yale  rather  than  Cambridge.  I  may  be  thought  as 
suming  and  even  impertinent  to  make  this  request. 
But,  sir,  I  entreat  you  to  consider  the  thing.  The 
literary  advantages  at  Cambridge  are  superior  in 
some  respects  to  those  at  Yale.  The  languages  can 
undoubtedly  be  learnt  best  at  Cambridge.  But  it  is 
allowed  by  many,  who  have  had  opportunity  to  judge, 
free  from  prejudice,  that  the  solid  branches  may  be 


6  GEORGE  RIP  LET. 

acquired  to  as  great  perfection  at  Yale.  Cousin 
Henry,  who  has  had  some  information  on  the  subject, 
says  that  for  mathematics,  metaphysics,  and  for  the 
solid  sciences  in  general,  Yale  is  the  best.  The 
temptations  incident  to  a  college,  we  have  reason  to 
think,  are  less  at  Yale  than  at  Cambridge. 
I  remain  your  obliged  and  affectionate  son, 

GEORGE  RIPLET. 

WALTHAM,  June  12,  1819. 

Mr  DEAR  MOTHER,  —  "We  had  upon  the  whole  a 
pleasant  journey,  though  it  was  rendered  disagree 
able  by  the  extreme  heat  and  dust  and  the  number 
of  passengers.  We  arrived  at  Lincoln  about  eight  in 
the  evening,  where  we  met  Dr.  Ripley,  who  carried 
us  to  Concord.  There  I  passed  the  night  and  part 
of  the  next  day,  and  in  the  afternoon  rode  to  Wul- 
thain  with  cousin  Sarah.  She  stated  the  case  to  Mr. 
lvi|»!t  v,  who  was  willing  to  instruct  me,  and  after  an 
examination  expressed  his  opinion  that  probably  I 
might  enter  at  Cambridge,  if  not  at  Commencement, 
at  the  close  of  the  vacation.  He  has  a  house  full  of 
boys,  two  of  whom  are  to  be  examined  in  the  fall, 
The  advantages  here  for  being  well  prepared  for  col 
lege  are  indeed  many.  His  system  of  instruction  is 
altogether  different  from  anything  which  I  have  been 
accustomed  to.  It  is  pretty  certain  if  I  had  not  come 
here,  or  to  some  other  similar  place,  I  should  not 
have  been  fitted  for  Cambridge  this  year ;  and  as  I 
now  am  I  consider  it  something  doubtful  whether  I 
can  get  in.  My  boarding-place  is  at  a  Mrs.  Smith's. 


COLLEGE.  1 

a  very  respectable  family.  The  board  is  $3.00  a 
week,  —  a  large  sura.  But  I  trust  that  eventually 
it  will  be  cheaper  for  me  than  if  I  had  remained  at 
Greenfield.  The  place  is  very  pleasant,  many  beau 
tiful  walks  and  prospects,  and  a  good  situation  for 
acquiring  knowledge,  but  the  religious  state  of  the 
place  is  far  different  from  that  of  Greenfield. 

CAMBRIDGE,  October,  1819. 

DEAR  MOTHER,  —  At  length  I  have  got  pretty 
comfortably  established  in  this  seminary,  and  begin 
to  feel  at  home.  I  have  had  a  very  confused  time 
hitherto,  owing  to  the  perplexities  and  inconveniences 
which  usually  attend  a  student  on  his  first  entrance 
on  a  collegiate  course  ;  but  I  now  find  considerable 
quiet  and  tranquillity,  and  can  behold  a  prospect  of 
profit  and  improvement.  I  arrived  in  Boston  the 
day  after  leaving  Greenfield,  and  found  our  friends 
in  health.  You  probably  desire  to  know  concerning 
my  situation  and  prosperity  at  this  place,  but  I  hardly 
know  what  opinion  to  form  myself.  As  I  observed 
before,  the  prospect  for  improvement  in  learning  is 
favorable.  Undoubtedly  there  are  means  and  privi 
leges  here  particularly  great,  such  as  are  enjoyed  by 
no  other  American  college.  The  course  of  studies 
adopted  here,  in  the  opinion  of  competent  judges,  is 
singularly  calculated  to  form  scholars,  and,  moreover, 
correct  and  accurate  scholars ;  to  inure  the  mind  to 
profound  thought  and  habits  of  investigation  and 
reasoning.  I  am  in  great  hopes  that  my  health  will 
be  able  to  endure  the  exertions  necessary  to  be  made. 


8  GEORGE  RIP  LEY. 

I  am  not  obliged  to  study  at  all  hard  to  perform  the 
exercises  allotted  me.  At  present  our  lessons  can  :ill 
be  learnt  in  three,  or  at  most  four,  hours.  But  the 
diligent  student  will  find  something  to  occupy  all  his 
time,  and  leave  not  a  moment  to  be  spent  in  idleness. 
I  expect  to  have  some  time  to  read,  and  if  a  judicious 
choice  of  books  is  made  it  may  be  profitable.  The 
expense  here  will  probably  be  nearly  as  you  expected. 
The  commons  are  charged  according  to  the  price  of 
provisions ;  but  usually  there  is  an  extra  expense, 
called  sizing  ;  that  is,  if  you  don't  have  bread,  or  but 
ter,  or  meat,  etc.,  sufficient,  you  can  call  for  more, 
and  be  charged  four  cents  a  time.  This*  amounts, 
when  it  is  done  no  oftener  than  is  absolutely  neces 
sary,  to,  say,  $2.00  a  term.  The  books  used  in  the 
classes  are  furnished  by  the  University  booksellers, 
at  a  discount  of  twenty  per  cent.,  to  be  charged  in  the 
quarter  bill.  Many  second-hand  are  to  be  obtained, 
however,  for  a  trifle.  I  bought  a  very  good  book, 
the  price  of  which  is  $2.80,  for  two  shillings,  and 
one  or  two  others  in  the  same  proportion.  My  wash 
ing  I  have  done  at  $5.00  per  term. 

Your  affectionate  son,  G.  RIPLET. 

CAMBRIDGE,  HARVARD  UNIVERSITY, 
November  10,  1819. 

MY  DEAR  MOTHER,  —  ...  I  would  say  a  few 
words  concerning  my  teaching  a  school  the  ensuing 
winter.  I  have  no  one  in  particular  in  view  at  pres 
ent,  and  it  may  be  doubtful  whether  I  can  obtain  a 
good  one.  If  it  should  be  thought  expedient,  I 


COLLEGE.  9 

should  be  willing  to  teach  one  in  the  vicinity  of 
Greenfield.  If  I  could  obtain  one  in  Shelburne,  be 
ginning  the  Monday  after  Thanksgiving,  and  con 
tinue  two  months,  at  the  rate  of  $16.00  a  month,  it 
would  perhaps  be  an  object.  I  consider  it  my  duty 
to  use  what  exertions  are  in  my  power  to  render  the 
burden  necessary  to  complete  my  education  as  small 
as  possible.  Your  affectionate  son, 

GEORGE  RIPLET. 

April  20, 1820. 

.  .  .  The  commons  have  deteriorated  very  much 
this  term,  and  are  almost  abandoned  by  the  scholars, 
among  the  rest  by  me.  I  can  board  at  the  same 
price  as  the  commons  will  be  in  the  bill,  and  on  much 
more  wholesome  provisions.  I  presume  you  will  ap 
prove  of  my  change.  Next  term  I  hope  to  board  in 
my  room  at  $2.00,  as  nearly  one  fourth  of  the  schol 
ars  do.  This  custom  is  recently  introduced  by  Pro 
fessor  Everett,  who  sets  the  example  in  imitation  of 
the  German  universities,  whose  manners  and  customs 
they  endeavor  to  adopt  as  much  as  possible. 

HARVARD  UNIVERSITY,  CAMBRIDGE,  May  15. 
MY  DEAR  MOTHER, —  .  .  .  We  have  been  sub 
jected  to  many  temporary  inconveniences  for  our  at 
tachment  to  what  we  considered  our  duty,  and  what 
our  own  interest  and  the  interests  of  the  college  de 
manded.  But  good  has  been  educed  from  evil.  The 
division  has  been  so  deeply  rooted,  and  animosities 
are  so  malignant  and  inveterate,  as  effectually  to  pre- 


10  GEORGE 

vent  much  of  the  social  intercourse  for  which,  when 
Freshmen,  we  were  particularly  distinguished.  The 
competition  for  scholarship  has  been  zealous  and  en 
ergetic,  and  each  party  jealous  of  the  other  strives  to 
win  the  prize. 

It  has  been  reported  by  our  enemies  that  the  only 
object  of  those  who  opposed  the  rebellion  was  to 
secure  the  favor  of  the  government,  and  thereby  ob 
tain  higher  college  honors.  Now  it  happens  that 
most  of  our  number  are  good  scholars,  and  they  have 
endeavored  to  prove,  and  have  probably  succeeded, 
that  if  they  do  receive  high  honors  it  will  be  due  to 
their  literary  merit,  and  not  to  their  conduct  in  this 
affair.  Mr.  Dorr,  of  whom  you  have  heard  me  speak, 
is  one  of  the  most  efficient  and  worthy  members  of 
our  party,  and  is  considered  by  the  class  as  decidedly 
the  first  scholar.  He,  indeed,  possesses  a  powerful 
mind,  and  has  every  faculty  of  appearing  to  the  best 
advantage.  The  tutors  say  he  is  the  best  scholar  of 
his  age  they  ever  knew.  He  will  probably  spend 
some  years  in  Germany  after  he  leaves  Cambridge, 
and  if  his  health  is  spared  return  one  of  the  most 
eminent  among  our  literary  men.  I  am  happy  to 
consider  this  man  my  friend,  for  the  excellences  of 
his  heart  are  not  surpassed  by  the  strength  of  his 
genius.  I  look  forward  with  pleasure,  though  not 
unmingled  with  regret,  to  the  close  of  the  first  half 
of  my  college  life.  I  never  expect  to  be  in  a  state 
where  I  can  have  superior  means  of  improvement  and 
happiness  ;  but  the  minds  of  young  men,  inexperi 
enced  and  ardent,  long  for  emancipation  from  the  re- 


COLLEGE.  11 

straints  of  college  and  power,  to  take  a  more  active 
and  more  conspicuous  part  in  the  great  theatre  of 
life.  Be  it  my  lot  to  retire  to  some  peaceful  village, 
where,  "  the  world  forgetting,  and  by  the  world  for 
got,"  I  may  pass  the  remainder  of  my  days  in  study 
and  labor.  I  love  sometimes  to  anticipate  such  a 
station  as  this.  Where  the  Lord  will  appoint  the 
bounds  of  my  habitation  I  cannot  see.  My  duty, 
however,  at  present  is  plain :  diligently  to  improve 
the  advantages  I  enjoy,  aspire  after  high  intellectual 
and  moral  and  religious  excellence,  and  do  what  I 
can  for  the  good  of  those  around  me. 

CAMBRIDGE,  HARVARD  UNIVERSITY, 
April  6,  1821. 

MY  DEAR  MARIANNE,  —  ...  The  dull  monotony 
of  college  life  presents  little  that  is  interesting  to 
strangers,  and  the  confinement  to  abstruse  studies 
chills  the  ardor  of  feeling  which  is  so  necessary  to 
the  cultivation  of  the  more  kindly  and  tender  affec 
tions.  Notwithstanding,  I  hope  that  I  shall  be  able 
to  maintain  a  more  intimate  and  regular  intercourse 
with  my  much-loved  home.  Our  studies  are  so  al 
tered  this  term  as  to  allow  more  time  for  our  own 
concerns  ;  but  they  are  still  severe,  and,  if  faithfully 
attended  to,  will  occupy  most  of  our  time  and  thoughts. 
The  path  of  knowledge  is  difficult  and  embarrassing, 
requiring  the  highest  exertions  of  all  our  faculties. 
But  it  is  a  cause  in  which  we  richly  receive  the  re 
ward  of  our  labors.  The  prospect  of  devoting  my 
days  to  the  acquisition  and  communication  of  knowl- 


12  GEORGE  RIPLET. 

ledge  is  bright  and  cheering  ;  this  employment  I 
would  not  exchange  for  the  most  elevated  station  of 
wealth  or  honor.  One  of  the  happiest  steps,  I  think, 
that  I  have  ever  taken  was  the  commencement  of  a 
course  of  study,  and  it  is  my  wish  and  effort  that  my 
future  progress  may  give  substantial  evidence  of  it. 
It  is  interesting  to  contemplate  the  characters  of 
great  and  good  men  of  other  times,  and  trace  the  path 
by  which  they  arrived  at  excellence.  We  see  much, 
however,  in  many  of  the  most  eminent  men  which 
cannot  command  our  approbation,  and  frequently  that 
awakens  our  disgust.  In  a  religious  view,  perhaps, 
the  greatest  part  of  those  whose  names  are  conspicu 
ous  on  the  records  of  fame  deserve  reprobation.  We 
shall  see  that  they  were  actuated  by  motives  of  a 
worldly  and  selfish  ambition,  and  their  very  virtues 
were  so  mingled  with  what  is  evidently  corrupt  that 
we  are  in  doubt  whether  they  deserve  that  name. 
There  is,  indeed,  a  deceitful  splendor  cast  around 
them  by  the  art  of  the  historian,  but  this  very  cir 
cumstance  is  suited  to  misguide  and  delude  the  youth 
ful  mind.  There  is  great  danger  lest,  in  the  inexpe 
rienced  and  sanguine  season  of  youth,  we  acquire 
admiration  of  those  characters,  and  adopt  them  as 
models,  which  cannot  fail  to  be  productive  of  the 
most  injurious  consequences.  But  there  are  some 
whom  we  can  safely  imitate.  Such  was  Cowper. 
"  II is  virtues  formed  the  magic  of  his  song."  Of  this 
class  was  Dr.  Dwiglit.  I  have  never  read  of  any 
one,  I  think,  who  approached  nearer  to  perfection  of 
character.  .  .  . 


COLLEGE.  13 

I  send  up  Dr.  Channing's  lecture,  supposing  my 
father  would  like  to  have  it ;  and,  by  the  way,  men 
tion  that  he  is  the  author  of  the  very  beautiful  memoir 
of  Gallison  in  the  last  "  Christian  Disciple." 

Yours,  affectionately,  G.  RIPLET. 

HARVARD  UNIVERSITY,  July  12,  1821. 
MY  DEAR  MARIANNE, —  ...  I  long  to  see  you 
all ;  and  though  you  know  I  have  no  enthusiastic 
attachment  to  Greenfield,  I  would  gladly  transport 
myself  thither  this  moment,  to  enjoy  a  few  days  in 
the  good  old  hospitable,  beautiful  mansion.  After 
six  weeks  of  hard  digging,  I  hope  to  partake  of  that 
happiness.  Our  studies,  however,  though  hard,  are 
singularly  pleasant.  We  have  made  some  progress 
in  the  intricate  mazes  of  metaphysics,  but,  with  such 
a  guide  as  our  learned  Professor  Hedge,  we  find  our 
difficulties  much  lessened.  We  are  now  studying 
Locke,  an  author  who  has  done  more  to  form  the 
mind  to  habits  of  accurate  reasoning  and  sound 
thought  than  almost  any  other. 

HARVARD  UNIVERSITY  July  17,  1821. 
...  If  ever  I  get  through  this  Sophomore  year,  I 
hope  to  have  some  few  occasional  moments,  at  least, 
to  devote  to  what  I  choose.  Now  that  is  out  of  the 
question  ;  the  class  are  rapidly  going  on,  and  unless 
I  give  myself  to  their  studies  I  shall  forever  lose 
the  important  knowledge.  .  .  .  Last  Tuesday  the 
Senior  class  had  their  valedictory  exercises.  It  was 
i  class  always  distinguished  for  unanimity,  and  the 


14  GEORGE  RIPLEY. 

parting  scene  could  not  be  otherwise  than  solemn  and 
affecting.  More  tears  were  shed  than  ever  I  wit 
nessed,  or  had  an  idea  of,  among  a  company  of  men. 
This  class  contains  some  young  men  of  the  highest 
promise.  The  Commencement  will  probably  be  the 
best  there  has  been  here  for  years. 

Affectionately  your  son,  GEORGE. 

HARVARD  UNIVERSITY,  October  30,  1822. 
MY  DEAR  MOTHER, —  ...  I  have  engaged  a 
school  in  Fitchburg,  expecting  to  raise  about  $40.00. 
This  is  certainly  better  than  being  devoured  by  in 
dolence  and  ennui  in  a  long  vacation.  It  begins  im 
mediately  after  Thanksgiving,  and  if  the  wagoner 
does  not  come  twice  before  then,  the  next  time  I 
shall  wish  to  have  him  bring  sundry  little  conven 
iences.  Yours,  affectionately,  G.  R. 

FITCHBURO,  December  14,  1822. 

MY  DEAR  MOTIIKR,  —  It  is  now  a  week  since  I 
became  an  inmate  in  the  family  of  a  good,  honest, 
homespun  farmer,  and  assumed  the  highly  important 
and  respectable  office  of  instructing  some  forty  over 
grown,  dirty,  mischief-loving  boys  in  the  mysteries  of 
the  spelling-book  and  Adams's  arithmetic.  I  have  de 
ferred  writing  until  this  time  for  several  reasons.  I 
had  not  become  acquainted  with  the  regulations  of 
the  mail,  etc.  I  live  at  some  distance  from  anybody 
but  my  **  parishioners,"  who  are  not  of  that  class  who 
Conn  the  Corinthian  columns  of  society  ;  and  above 
all,  I  find  that  head  and  hands  and  eyes  and  tongue 


COLLEGE.  15 

have  their  full  quota  of  employment  in  superintend 
ing  the  economy  of  my  little  empire.  This  is  Sat 
urday  afternoon,  equally  grateful,  I  presume,  to  the 
scholars  and  to  "  the  master,"  as  I  am  universally 
called.  My  situation,  although  one  in  which  I  shall 
be  but  a  short  time,  I  suppose  you  wish  to  be  ac 
quainted  with.  I  cannot,  however,  give  you  a  pre 
cise  idea  of  it.  It  is  a  school  in  the  outskirts  of  this 
town,  where  nature  appears  in  all  its  loneliness  and 
wildness,  if  not  magnificence  and  loveliness.  And  it 
is,  upon  the  whole,  a  very  pleasant  school.  The 
scholars  have  been  under  good  instruction,  and  are 
singularly  attentive  to  their  studies.  I  have  six  or 
seven  great  boys,  much  larger  than  myself,  who  study 
surveying,  chemistry,  philosophy,  etc.,  so  that  there 
is  some  scope  for  the  exercise  of  intellect.  Most  of 
them  are  studying  grammar,  geography,  and  arithme 
tic.  I  am  determined  to  exert  myself  and  keep  a 
good  school.  I  can  certainly,  I  think,  make  myself 
useful  here.  There  is  no  particular  society  in  my 
district,  but  in  the  middle  of  the  town,  two  miles  off, 
there  are  some  families  whom  I  shall  visit  occasion 
ally  with  pleasure.  I  could  give  you  a  most  curious 
account  of  the  customs,  etc.,  but  it  might  not  be  ex 
actly  prudent.  Suffice  it  to  say,  I  see  human  nature 
under  forms  that  I  had  scarcely  dreamed  of  ;  still, 
I  get  information  from  it,  and  there  is  no  knowledge 
but  what  is  valuable.  Three  years  ago  I  should  have 
been  miserably  homesick  at  such  a  place,  but  I  have 
learned  to  shape  myself  to  circumstances.  I  conform 
entirely  to  the  manners  of  the  people,  and  drink  cider 


16  GEORGE  RIPLEY. 

and  tell  stories  about  cattle  with  as  much  grace  as 
ever  I  figured  among  the  literati  at  Cambridge.  You 
would  hardly  know  me,  with  a  long  beard  and  dirty 
shirt,  and  the  worst  clothes  I  can  find.  So  much  for 
Fitchburg.  I  spent  Thanksgiving  at  Concord,  and 
had  a  good  time. 

May  2,  Friday  Evening. 

MY  DEAR  MOTHER,  —  ...  Five  of  our  class 
were  expelled  to-day,  Robinson  among  them.  The 
class  —  that  is  to  say,  of  course,  all  but  the  friends  of 
order  —  are  in  a  state  of  infuriated  excitement  and 
rebellion.  What  will  take  place  to-morrow  I  will  not 
venture  to  predict.  It  will  not  surprise  us  if  all  the 
class  are  cut  off  down  to  those  who  have  uniformly 
proved  themselves  the  supporters  of  good  discipline. 
It  may  be  that  the  whole  of  us  will  be  ordered  to 
leave  Cambridge  ;  in  that  case  I  shall  of  course 
come  home.  If  not,  in  the  present  exigency  it  will 
be  impossible  to  quit.  In  haste  yours, 

GEORGE  RIPLEY. 

May  3,  1823. 

MY  DEAR  MOTHER,  —  ...  In  consequence  of 
the  expulsion  of  four  who  were  distinguished  in  the 
attack,  the  class,  or  a  considerable  portion  rather,  re 
belled,  and  they  are  all  gone.  Those  who  remain 
are  sober  men  of  both  parties.  As  regards  myself,  I 
am  so  fortunate  as  to  have  escaped  any  censure  from 
the  government  of  the  class.  True  to  iny  old  prin 
ciples,  of  course,  I  did  not  join  the  mob,  and  have  en 
ieavored  to  keep  myself  quiet.  .  .  . 


COLLEGE.  17 

HARVARD  UNIVERSITY,  June,  1823. 
MY  DEAR  FATHER,  —  As  I  have  never  had  the 
opportunity  of  conversing  particularly  with  you  on 
the  course  proper  for  me  to  adopt  on  the  termination 
of  my  connection  with  the  college,  I  take  the  liberty 
of  expressing  my  own  views  and  of  requesting  your 
advice.  If  I  were  governed  merely  by  the  hope  of 
success  in  life,  and  perhaps  of  some  degree  of  emi 
nence,  I  should  by  all  means  endeavor  to  perfect  my 
education  by  an  elaborate  course  of  study,  and  a  res 
olution  to  avoid  all  thoughts  of  engaging  in  the  du 
ties  of  a  profession  till  after  a  laborious  preparation 
of  many  years.  This  plan  I  am  advised  to  adopt  by 
some  in  whose  judgment  I  should  place  high  confi 
dence.  And  were  I  possessed  of  a  moderate  for 
tune,  I  believe  that  inclination  and  duty  would  both 
prompt  me  to  this  enterprise,  as  laying  the  broadest 
foundation  for  future  usefulness.  The  idea  of  a  for 
eign  university  would  perhaps  appear  visionary,  and 
in  my  case  I  will  confess  it  is  entirely  so.  Still  I 
cannot  avoid  all  regret  at  beholding  the  superior  ad 
vantages  which  are  accessible  to  our  fortunateyoung 
men,  and  wishing  myself  able  to  enjoy  them./For  I 
know  that  my  peculiar  habits  of  mind,  imperfect  as 
they  are,  strongly  impel  me  to  the  path  of  active  in 
tellectual  effort ;  and  if  I  am  to  be  at  any  time  of 
any  use  to  society,  or  a  satisfaction  to  myself  or  my 
friends,  it  will  be  in  the  way  of  some  retired  literary 
situation,  where  a  fondness  for  study  and  a  knowl 
edge  of  books  will  be  more  requisite  than  the  busy, 
calculating  mind  of  a  man  in  the  business  part  of  the 
2 


18  GEORGE  RIP  LEY. 

community.  I  do  not  mean  to  say  by  this  that  any 
profession  is  desired  but  the  one  to  which  I  have 
been  long  looking.  My  wish  is  only  to  enter  that 
profession  with  all  the  enlargement  of  mind  and  ex 
tent  of  information  which  the  best  institution  can 
afford.  In  my  present  circumstances,  I  cannot  rea 
sonably  hope  for  anything  more  than  a  sedulous  ef 
fort  to  avail  myself  of  what  the  literary  resources  we 
have  can  give.  I  wish  to  study  my  profession  thor 
oughly.  I  do  not  feel  prepared  to  enter  upon  these 
important  inquiries  before  a  more  accurate  acquaint 
ance  is  obtained  with  some  subsidiary  branches.  For 
this  purpose  I  wish  to  spend  a  year  at  Cambridge, 
in  a  course  of  study  which  I  have  prescribed  for  my 
self,  unconnected  with  any  department  in  the  uni 
versity.  I  should  prefer  to  pursue  my  theological 
studies  at  Andover,  both  because  I  am  convinced  that 
the  opportunities  for  close  investigation  of  the  Script 
ures  are  superior  there  to  those  at  Cambridge,  and 
the  spirit  of  the  place,  much  relaxed  from  its  former 
severe  and  gloomy  bigotry,  is  more  favorable  to  a 
tone  of  decided  piety.  This  is  my  present  opinion 
of  Andover.  I  might,  after  more  extensive  acquaint 
ance,  have  reason  to  alter  it.  The  only  objection  at 
tending  this  plan  is  the  expense.  .  .  . 
I  ain  your  affectionate  son, 

GEORGE  RIPLET. 

Juhj  18,  1823. 

MY  DEAR  MOTHER,  —  I  have  the  pleasure  of  in 
forming  you  that  our  college  course  is  at  length  fin 


COLLEGE.  19 

ished,  and  I  may  add,  with  joy.  On  Tuesday  we  re 
ceived  the  valedictory  from  the  president,  and  took  our 
leave  of  the  college  officers  at  the  president's  house. 
The  world  is  now  before  us,  and  our  future  charac 
ter  depends  much  on  the  course  we  now  adopt.  I 
feel  a  strong  and  affectionate  attachment  to  the  col 
lege  and  its  governors.  I  have  found  here  my  best 
friends,  and  I  have  been  enabled  to  acquire  their  con 
fidence.  I  wish  now  to  devote  myself  to  the  cause 
of  truth  and  virtue,  in  the  study  of  a  pure  religion 
and  the  cultivation  of  a  sound  literature.  I  regret 
that  I  have  been  unsuccessful  hitherto  in  my  attempt 
to  procure  a  school.  I  shall  still  look  out  for  a  suit 
able  one,  and  may  perhaps  attain  my  object.  I  must 
stay  here,  at  any  rate,  until  I  have  prepared  for  Com 
mencement,  for  which  occasion  I  feel  very  unable  to 
meet  my  duty.  It  affects  my  spirits  materially.  The 
scale  has  preponderated  in  my  favor.  I  have  the 
first  part,  and  of  course  an  unusual  degree  of  re- 
sponsibleness.  I  am  also  the  author,  as  you  may 
have  seen  in  the  paper,  of  a  successful  Dissertation 
for  the  Bowdoin  Prize.  .  .  . 

In  1823  he  was  graduated  at  Harvard,  first 
scholar  in  a  class  which  could  boast  of  William 
P.  Lunt,  Samuel  H.  Stearns,  and  Thomas  W. 
Dorr,  of  Rhode  Island  fame.  John  P.  Robin 
son,  the  hero  of  J.  R.  Lowell's  celebrated 
rhyme,  pressed  him  hard,  but  was  suspended 
from  college  for  the  share  he  took  in  the  "  re 
bellion,"  and  lost  his  degree,  which  was  given 


20  GEORGE  RIP  LEY. 

him  iii  1845.  At  the  exercises  of  graduation 
Ripley  spoke  the  English  oration,  the  subject 
being  "  Genius  as  affected  by  Moral  Feeling." 
The  three  years  following  were  spent  in  the 
study  of  divinity,  during  a  portion  of  which 
he  was  a  member  of  the  College  Faculty,  rep 
resenting  the  departments  of  Mathematics  and 
Natural  Philosophy.  Of  his  life  in  the  Divin 
ity  School  there  is  scanty  record;  but  so  high 
was  his  rank  as  a  scholar  that  at  the  close 
of  his  studies  there  was  throughout  academic 
circles  the  expectation  for  him  of  a  brilliant 
future. 

CAMBRIDGE,  September  30,  1823. 

MY  DEAR  MOTHER,  —  With  pleasure  I  begin  the 
labors  of  my  new  situation  by  informing  you  of  my 
condition  and  prospects  ;  and  I  know  that  you  will 
rejoice  with  me  in  the  goodness  of  Providence  which 
has  appointed  the  bounds  of  my  habitation  where  I 
have  every  facility  for  real  improvement. 

The  prospects  of  our  Theological  School  are  so 
good,  and  the  call  in  society  for  a  faithful  and  de 
voted  clergy,  who  combine  liberal  views  with  deep 
piety,  is  daily  becoming  so  urgent,  that  I  cannot  re 
gret  having  chosen  this  place  as  the  scene  of  my 
theological  investigations.  Indeed,  it  is  thought  by 
many  competent  judges,  and  ainon<*  them  Dr.  Chan- 
fling,  that  this  institution  presents  advantages  for 
forming  useful,  practical  clergymen  not  inferior  to 
the  foreign  universities.  He  advises  William  Emer 


DIVINITY  SCHOOL.  21 

son  to  study  at  Cambridge  rather  than  at  Gottingen, 
believing  that  though  Germany  affords  the  greatest 
advantages  as  far  as  mere  literature  is  concerned,  yet 
that  the  best  education  for  a  minister  in  New  Eng 
land,  taking  into  account  the  moral  influence  and  re 
ligious  feeling,  can  be  obtained  at  Cambridge.  ...  I 
am  remarkably  pleasantly  situated,  and  have  every 
thing  to  my  mind.  My  room  is  in  a  brick  house,  — 
the  south  end,  —  the  very  last  house  on  the  right 
hand  of  the  street  in  which  the  printing-office  is.  I 
hope  that  father  will  have  no  difficulty  in  finding  it. 
It  is  on  the  lower  floor,  about  as  large  as  our  front 
room,  with  two  recesses  in  it ;  these  I  have  divided 
off  by  a  curtain  from  the  main  room,  so  as  to  form 
closets.  I  have  all  Mr.  Lincoln's  books  at  my  dis 
posal,  which,  together  with  the  few  that  I  own  myself, 
form  a  very  pretty  little  library.  I  feel  perfectly  sat 
isfied  that  I  have  acted  according  to  the  will  of  Prov 
idence,  as  far  as  I  can  ascertain  it,  in  uniting  myself 
to  this  school,  and  that  so  far  from  departing  from 
my  religious  principles,  as  some  would  suppose,  I 
have  done  that  which  will  tend  to  their  improvement 
and  perfection.  I  could  say  much  on  the  emotions 
which  are  awakened  on  commencing  those  studies  to 
which  I  have  long  been  looking  with  fond  anxiety 
and  earnest  hope.  I  feel  that  it  is  solemn  indeed 
to  take  any  step  towards  an  office  involving  such  re 
sponsibility,  such  infinite  consequences.  But  God 
will  use  such  instruments  as  He  chooses  to  promote 
his  truth  in  the  world.  .  .  . 


22  GEORGE  RIP  LET. 

CAMBRIDGE,  October  1,  1823. 

MY  DKAR  MOTHER, —  .  .  .  My  cares  are  now 
for  my  books.  My  walks  of  pleasure  are  exchanged 
for  walks  of  exercise  and  health;  and  Green  River 
Bridge  has  given  way  to  Mr.  Norton's  study  and  the 
library.  And  I  am  glad.  Much  as  I  love  company 
and  gayety.  I  do  love  study  and  retirement  best ;  and 
for  this  reason,  when  I  once  get  to  Cambridge,  I  feel 
that  I  never  wish  to  go  out  of  it.  It  would  be  so,  I 
suppose,  in  'any  place  where  I  had  such  cherished  in 
tellectual  friends,  and  where  scarce  anything  is  desti 
tute  of  associated  circumstances,  interesting,  and  to 
literary  effort  and  to  moral  sentiment  inspiring.  It 
may  be  superstition,  but  I  cannot  help  the  feeling. 
I  have  a  strong  reverence  for  the  Genius  of  Place, 
and  to  me  there  is  no  place  for  the  exercise  of  free, 
vigorous,  effectual  thought  like  this ;  and  after  these 
remarks  you  will  not  ask  rae  why  I  like  Cambridge 
so  much. 

CAMBRIDGE,  October  14,  1823. 

MY  DKAR  MOTHER,  —  ...  I  am  on  very  differ 
ent  grounds  from  what  I  was  when  an  under-graduate. 
Then  I  was  led  on  by  others ;  now  I  am  left  to  my 
own  keeping,  and  you  may  judge  the  weight  of  re 
sponsibility  which  I  must  feel.  We  have  exercises 
in  the  Hebrew  language  three  times  a  week,  and  once 
a  week  we  present  the  results  of  our  theological  read 
ing  and  investigations  on  topics  pointed  out  to  us  by 
Dr.  Ware.  I  am  besides  diligently  engaged  in  Greek 
and  other  subsidiary  studies  ;  so  that  my  time  is  more 
completely  and  regularly  occupied  than  ever.  I  hope 


DIVINITY  SCHOOL.  23 

to  make  all  these  attainments  subservient  to  the  great 
cause  of  truth.  I  am  much  disappointed  in  what  I 
have  learned  of  the  religious  character  of  the  school, 
I  confess.  I  had  some  prejudices  against  many  of  its 
members,  who,  destitute  of  the  austerity,  I  had  thought 
to  be  deficient  in  the  spirit,  of  religion.  But  if  a 
more  intimate  acquaintance  has  enabled  me  to  judge 
rightly,  the  depth  and  purity  of  their  religious  feel 
ing  and  the  holy  simplicity  of  their  lives  is  enough 
to  humble  and  shame  those  who  have  been  long  pro 
fessors  of  Christianity,  and  had  pretended  to  superior 
sanctity.  We  meet  morning  and  evening  for  devo 
tional  exercises,  and  I  have  no  hesitation  in  saying 
that  if  I  have  ever  witnessed  the  display  of  spiritual 
ity  and  seriousness  of  devotion  it  is  in  these  little 

CAMBRIDGE,  November  3,  1823. 
MY  DEAR  MOLLY, —  ...  I  am  here  engaged  in  a 
great  work,  while  at  home  with  you  I  am  idle,  use 
less,  and  unimproving.  I  have  commenced  the  most 
interesting  studies,  which,  to  me,  are  superior  to  any 
thing  which  can  occupy  my  mind.  My  business  is 
now  well  arranged;  every  hour  has  its  duty,  and 
every  day  I  can  look  back  and  most  generally  "  re 
port  progress."  I  am  now  employed  something  in 
the  way  in  which  I  trust  I  am  destined  to  pass  my 
life;  and  if  the  profession  I  have  chosen  is  in  any 
degree  as  rich  in  sources  of  delight  as  the  study  of  it, 
my  lot  is  indeed  a  happy  one.  I  expect  to  pass  a  life 
of  poverty,  and  I  care  not  if  of  obscurity  ;  but  give 
me  my  Bible  and  the  studies  which  relate  to  its  in- 


24  GEORGE  RIPLEY. 

terpretation,  give  me  that  philosophy  which  explains 
our  moral  faculty  and  intellect,  and  I  ask  not  for 
wealth  or  fame.  I  can  be  useful  to  my  fellow-men. 
I  wish  to  say  a  word  with  regard  to  the  caution  you 
give  me  concerning  a  change  of  sentiments.  In  the 
first  place,  the  opinion  of  the  world  is  but  a  puff  of 
empty  air.  Let  the  world  say  what  it  pleases ;  truth, 
and  truth  unpopular  and  odious,  —  aye,  and  that  which 
is  stigmatized  as  heresy  and  sin,  —  must  be  sought  and 
professed  by  the  consistent  Christian.  .  .  . 

Yours,  dear  Molly,  truly,  GEORGE. 

1  CAMBRIDGE. 

.  .  .  My  health  has  been  capital  ever  since  my  re 
turn.  I  have  entirely  escaped  the  prevailing  influ 
enza.  We  have  quite  study  enough  to  afford  agree 
able  excitement  without  being  too  much  to  oppress 
with  its  burden.  The  walking  is  now  very  fine,  and 
I  spend  much  time  in  exercise  in  the  open  air.  I 
have  been  in  Boston  but  little  since  my  return,  and, 
with  the  exception  of  a  very  few  friends,  I  have  vis 
ited  but  little  in  Cambridge.  I  am  now  writing  my 
second  sermon,  which  I  shall  preach  before  the  school 
on  Saturday,  with  the  hope  that  I  shall  be  more  suc 
cessful  than  I  was  at  first. 

MY  DEAR  MOLLY,  — ...  Did  you  ever  see  a 
mill-horse  ?  Such  are  we,  groaning  under  Hebrew, 
Biblical  Criticism,  Polemics,  and  Metaphysics,  —  one 
hard  round.  No  time  for  the  delights  of  vacation, 
though  I  have  been  to  one  party  at  Stephen  Higgin- 


DIVINITY  SCHOOL  25 

son's,  Esq.,  merely  out  of  honor  to  the  Theological 

School,  where  I    saw  the   incomparable   Miss , 

who  unfortunately  wears  a  crutch ;  and  the  learned 

Miss ,  whom  they  call  the  Immortal,  is  here.    Do 

you  read  the  "  Christian  Register  "  ?  I  forget  whether 
the  Doctor  takes  it  or  not.  I  wish  to  ask  if  you  have 
noticed  in  the  two  or  three  last  ones  some  pieces 
signed  "  C."  There  is  a  very  grave  and  philosophical 
old  gentleman,  whom  I  believe  you  know,  but  whose 
name  I  would  not  mention  for  the  world,  who  has 
undertaken  to  enlighten  the  good  readers  of  that  pa 
per.  I  hope  you  will  be  far  from  supposing  that 
his  gray  wig  conceals  a  curly  pate,  or  his  sage  and 
sombre  reflections  a  light  heart  and  merry  spirit. 
But  the  old  fellow  is  sincere.  He  desired  to  do  good, 
and  he  thought  it  might  be  best  done  by  giving  some 
adventitious  dignity  to  the  source  from  which  his 
weighty  remarks  proceed.  It  is,  moreover,  amusing 
to  hear,  as  this  gray-beard  walks  unseen  through  our 
ample  halls,  and  even  makes  one  of  our  family,  his 
merits  discussed,  and  the  question  gravely  asked  if 
it  is  not  probable  that  C.  means  Dr.  Charming.  But 
my  time  is  out.  If  I  have  told  you  any  secret,  which 
I  have  not,  or  given  your  conjectures  any  food,  which 
I  have,  pray  be  exhorted  to  keep  them  to  yourself. 

And  now  I  conclude  my  epistle  by  beseeching 
you,  lady,  to  defend  me  against  the  righteous  indig 
nation  of  the  Doctor  at  my  unhallowed  levity  and  my 
still  more  prancing,  undignified,  execrable  handwrit 
ing.  Scatter  my  benedictions.  Most  truly, 

G 


26  GEORGE  RIPLET. 

.  .  .  After  Mr.  Young's  ordination,  at  the  New 
South,  I  shall  make  strenuous  endeavors  to  spend  the 
vacation  at  Greenfield.  The  president  told  me  the 
other  day,  as  I  suggested  in  my  letter  to  father,  that 
he  might  wish  me  to  write  for  him,  but  I  shall  not 
be  easily  prevented  from  spending  a  part,  at  least,  of 
my  vacation  at  Greenfield.  I  do  not  like  the  idea  of 
spending  a  long  time  without  study,  as  every  moment 
in  my  present  situation  is  precious.  I  am  not  one  of 
those  who  can  write  or  speak  from  the  inspiration  of 
genius,  but  all  that  I  do  must  be  the  result  of  my 
own  personal  untiring  efforts.  If  I  am  to  be  useful 
as  a  Christian  minister,  which  is  the  great  object  of 
my  present  ambition,  it  is  by  laying  a  solid  founda 
tion  of  deep,  critical,  theological  knowledge,  rather 
than  by  any  attempts  at  popular  eloquence  or  fine 
writing.  With  these  views,  you  cannot  wish  me  to 
sacrifice  my  improvement  to  my  pleasure,  or  even  to 
your  gratification.  .  .  . 

I  am  ever  your  affectionate  son, 

GEORGE  R. 

CAMBRIDGE,  February  5, 1824. 

DEAR  MARY,  —  I  had  a  very  cold  ride  from  Con 
cord,  and  arrived  just  at  dark.  Nothing  interesting 
has  occurred  to  diversify  the  sameness  of  our  routine. 
We  go  on  from  day  to  day,  —  sleep  long  and  eat  tem 
perately,  cut  jokes  and  characters  in  the  same  breath, 
read  the  newspapers,  and  talk  about  Amherst  College 
and  the  Greeks  and  the  next  President  and  the  levees 
at  Washington.  Some  books  we  read,  and  many 


DIVINITY  SCHOOL. 

title-pages  ;  we  study  and  understand  some  sp 
tions  in  philosophy,  and  dispute  about  more.  There 
is  a  fine  fund  of  knowledge  floating  about  in  the  at 
mosphere,  and  in  minds  which  have  anything  like  a 
chemical  affinity  for  it  if  lodges  ;  other  minds  it  poi 
sons,  and  makes  them  pedantic  and  proud.  I  am 
plodding  on  very  leisurely  and  very  stupidly  trying 
to  know  a  little  of  everything,  and  a  great  deal  about 
Theology  and  Metaphysics,  and  eke  a  bird's-eye  view 
of  History ;  taking  care,  you  may  be  sure,  to  solace 
the  interval  with  sundry  vanities  in  the  form  of 
poetry,  books,  and  novels.  I  went,  moreover,  last 
night,  to  what  they  call  here  a  select  Cambridge  party 

at  Miss 's,  where  I  talked  to  the  ladies  and  ate 

jellies  ;  "  in  sic  creature  comforts,"  you  know,  I  de 
light.  After  all,  such  concerns  are  about  as  inter 
esting  to  me  as  the  "crackling  of  thorns  ;  "  but  we 
cannot  always  have  substantial  hickory,  nor  yet  mount 
ain  oak,  and  when  the  thorns  blaze  merrily  I  would 
not  refuse  to  enjoy  the  brightness,  and  especially  I 
would  not  throw  myself  upon  the  tiny  fire,  like  a 
great  green  log,  to  quench  the  flame  which  can  burn 
but  a  little  hour  at  best.  So  I  laughed  with  the  gay 
and  sported  with  the  trifling  till  almost  eleven  o'clock, 
and  came  home  and  turned  myself  to  a  dry  discussion 
on  the  value  of  Intellectual  Philosophy  with  a  clear 
mind  and  light  heart.  So  much  for  my  dissipation. 

You  asked  me  to  say  something  about  the  article 
in  the  "  Disciple."  For  myself,  I  freely  confess  that 
I  think  it  a  useful  thing  and  correct.  The  rigor  of 
my  orthodoxy,  which  is  commonly  pretty  suscepti- 


28  GEORGE  RIP  LEY. 

ble,  was  not  offended.  Now,  if  you  have  any  ob 
jections  which  you  can  accurately  and  definitely  state, 
no  doubt  there  is  something  in  it  which  had  escaped 
my  notice.  If  your  dislike  is  only  a  misty,  uncertain 
feeling  about  something,  ycfu  know  not  what,  it  were 
well  to  get  fairly  rid  of  it  by  the  best  means.  I  am 
far  from  having  any  sympathy  with  the  writer  of  the 
article,  or  the  school  of  divines  to  which  he  belongs. 
I  believe  his  views  of  religion  are  quite  different 
from  Dr.  Channing's,  whom  I  place  first  in  the  list  of 
Unitarian  ministers,  and  from  those  clergymen  who 
enter  more  deeply  into  the  views  entertained  by  Dr. 
C.  and  Buckminster,  Thatcher,  Mr.  Frisbie,  etc.  I 
do  not  allude  to  speculative  opinions,  but  to  senti 
ments  connected  more  with  personal,  experimental 
religion.  But  this  topic  I  must  reserve  till  I  see  you, 
and  am  yours  ever,  G.  R. 

CAMBRIDGE,  July  18,  1824. 

MY  DEAR  SISTER,  —  ...  I  wish  I  could  give 
you  an  idea  of  the  solemnities  at  Mr.  Gannett's  or 
dination,  but  a  description  on  paper  wrould  be  so  flat 
and  inadequate  that  I  will  not  attempt  it.  It  was  a 
day  of  great  joy  for  those  who  wish  to  see  fervent 
piety  connected  with  sound  doctrine  and  liberal  feel 
ings.  I  would,  but  I  cannot,  enable  you  to  form  a 
conception  of  the  infantine  simplicity  and  apostolic 
meekness,  united  witli  the  eloquence  of  an  angel  and 
spirituality  of  a  sainted  mind,  which  characterize  Dr. 
Channing.  His  sermon  will  be  printed. 

I  send  you  up    Locke's  Botany,  though  I  doubt 


DIVINITY  SCHOOL.  29 

whether  you  will  find  the  grapes  of  Eshcol  or  the 
rose  of  Sharon  in  your  botanical  studies.  I  would 
give  much  more  for  the  fragrance  and  richness  of  a 
cultivated  flower  than  for  an  accurate  knowledge  of 
the  stamens  and  petals  and  pistils  of  all  the  wild 
flowers  on  our  western  mountains.  .  .  . 

Yours,  G.  RIPLEY.     J 

HARVARD  UNIVERSITY,  November  2ith. 
MY  DEAR  MOTHER,  —  ...  I  believe  the  more  ju 
dicious  we  become,  the  less  confidence  we  shall  place 
in  some  appendage  of  religion,  and  the  more  charity 
we  shall  have  for  others,  although  we  may  think 
widely  different  from  them.  In  short,  true  religion 
is  in  the  heart,  and  is  not  connected  with  any  form 
or  any  language.  .  .  . 

CAMBRIDGE,  December  10,  1824. 

MY  DEAR  MOTHER,  —  ...  I  returned  yester 
day  from  Salem,  where  I  had  been  attending  Mr. 
Upham's  ordination.  I  can  give  you  no  adequate 
idea  of  the  pleasure  of  the  visit.  I  would  describe 
the  great  interest  of  the  occasion,  the  deep  feeling  of 
the  society,  the  enthusiasm  excited  by  the  recollec 
tions  connected  with  this  venerable  church,  —  the  first 
one  established  in  New  England  by  our  Pilgrim  Fa 
thers,  —  the  contrast  of  the  present  situation  with 
that  of  the  great  and  good  men  who,  when  they  had 
built  seven  houses  in  Naumkeag,  —  for  so  the  In 
dians  called  what  is  now  Salem,  —  erected  an  eighth, 
and  consecrated  it  to  the  worship  of  Almighty  God, 


30  GEORGE  R1PLEY. 

< — those  associations  I  would  describe;  but  it  requires 
more  eloquence  than  I  possess  to  do  them  justice. 

Mr.  rpham's  prospects  of  a  happy,  useful,  and  re- 
spedaMe  ministry  are  indeed  brilliant.  It  is  a  very 
religious,  intelligent  people  to  whom  he  inin:- 
Thev  have  been  early  educated  in  the  fear  of  God. 
and  as  a  society  beautifully  display  the  pure  and 
lovely  fruits  of  our  divine  faith.  They  a].}. ear  very 
much  to  act  up  to  the  spirit  of  the  exhortation,  "  lir- 
loved,  let  us  love  one  another,  for  love  is  of  God,  and 
he  that  dwelleth  in  love  dwelleth  in  God  and  He  in 
him."  There  have  been  some  unhappy  divisions  in 
the  society,  but  they  have  terminated  in  the  peace 
and  harmony  of  the  First  Church.  I  went  to  Salem 
with  Upham  on  Tuesday.  v\ho  introduced  me  to  the 
family  of  one  of  his  most  respectable  parishiont  rs, 
Judge  "White,  where  I  soon  found  myself  quite  at 
home,  and  where  I  stayed  with  Upham  and  Mrs. 
Holmes  and  several  intelligent  genth-nien  till  Thurs- 
dav.  I  was  glad  to  form  several  acquaintances  here 
with  distinguished  individuals  whom  I  had  long 
known  as  puhlic  men,  but  not  as  private  persons:  for 
instance,  the  venerable  Timothy  1'u'kering,  whom  I 
suppose  my  father  reveres  as  the  apostle  of  Federal- 
i>m.  — a  most  delightful  old  man,  with  all  the  simplic 
ity  and  modesty  of  a  child;  John-  Pickering,  the  best 
Greek  scholar  in  New  Knghind;  Dr.  Bowditch  :  and 
bat,  not  least,  Dr.  Channing,  whom  I  never  before 
met.  I  say  nothing  of  several  merchants,  who  a  good 
deal  interested  me  by  their  liberality  and  wide  views 
and  charming  manners,  for  were  1  to  particularly  men- 


DIVINITY  SCHOOL.  31 

tion  them  I  could  not  tell  when  to  begin  or  when  to 
stop.  The  religious  exercises  were  solemn  and  im 
pressive,  —  especially  the  prayers  of  Drs.  Channing 
and  Sewell,  which  were  enough  to  excite  devotion 
in  a  heart  of  stone.  I  saw  Mr.  Peabody  at  Judge 
White's,  who  tells  me  that  there  is  a  prospect  of  es 
tablishing  a  liberal  society  at  Northampton.  Pray, 
have  you  rend  the  correspondence  of  the  people  and 
Mr.  Tucker  ?  I  am  no  partisan  of  any  sect,  but  I 
must  rejoice  in  seeing  any  progress  towards  the  con 
viction  that  Christianity  is  indeed  "  glad  tidings  of 
great  joy"  and  that  in  its  original  purity  it  was  a 
very  different  thing  from  the  system  that  is  popu 
larly  preached,  and  which  is  still  received  as  reason 
able  and  scriptural  by  men  and  women  who  in  other 
respects  are  sensible  and  correct  in  their  judgments. 
When  shall- we  learn  that  without  the  spirit  of  Christ 
we  are  none  of  his  ?  ... 

CAMBRIDGE,  May  4,  1825. 

MY  DEAR  MOTHER,  —  ...  The  prospects  of  pro 
fessional  success  and  usefulness  appear  brighter  every 
day.  There  is  an  unexampled  call  from  all  parts  of 
the  country  for  our  students,  and  a  disposition  mani 
fested  to  hear  what  we  consider  more  useful  and 
practical,  if  not  more  able  preaching  than  can  else 
where  be  obtained.  For  my  own  part,  I  am  more 
and  more  grateful  to  a  kind  Providence  which  di 
rected  me  to  Cambridge,  where  I  have  learned  those 
views  of  religion  at  once  so  attractive  and  lovely,  so 
simple,  scriptural,  and  reasonable,  —  affording  such 
motives  to  holiness,  such  consolation  in  sorrow,  such 


32  GEORGE  RIP  LEY. 

hope  iii  death.  I  trust  I  am  not  becoming  a  partisan 
nor  a  bigot.  I  have  suffered  enough,  and  too  much,  in 
sustaining  those  characters,  in  earlier,  more  inexpe 
rienced,  and  more  ignorant  years  ;  but  I  have  no  pros 
pects  of  earthly  happiness  more  inviting  than  that  of 
preaching  the  truth,  with  the  humble  hope  of  being 
instrumental  in  impressing  it  on  the  mind  with 
greater  force,  purity,  and  effect  than  I  could  do  with 
any  other  than  my  present  conviction.  I  feel  bound 
to  my  profession,  —  so  much  so  that  you  will  not  be 
surprised  when  I  inform  you  that  I  deemed  it  right 
to  decline  the  appointment  of  mathematical  tutor, 
with  an  emolument  of  $700,  which  was  recently  of 
fered  me.  I  presume  and  hope  that  none  of  •  my 
friends  can  regret  what  may  appear  at  first  as  a  pe 
cuniary  sacrifice,  but  what  a  broad  view  of  the  future 
clearly  convinces  me  was  necessary,  and  ultimately 
can  be  of  no  disadvantage. 

CAMBRIDGE,  December  6,  1825. 

DEAR  MARIANNE,  —  I  am  now  very  pleasantly 
situated  and  delightfully  employed,  with  responsible 
and  difficult  labor  enough  to  keep  me  thoughtful  and 
awake,  and  intervals  of  rest  to  show  me  that  the 
relaxation  purchased  by  fatigue  is  by  far  the  best. 
Father  will  think  my  habits  are  somewhat  improving 
when  he  hears  that  I  rise  two  hours  before  the  sun 
these  cold  mornings,  and  never  sleep  between-while. 
I  am  very  glad  that  I  accepted  the  office  I  am  in,  as 
it  does  not  interfere  with  my  professional  views,  and 
gives  me  the  consciousness  that,  instead  of  being  a 


ENGA  CEMENT.  3  3 

burden  to  others  I  am  making  myself  useful,  and  in 
stead  of  being  dependent  I  am  earning  my  bread 
actually  by  the  sweat  of  my  brow,  and  it  gives  me 
the  prospect,  at  the  end  of  the  year,  of  having  laid 
up  in  this  world's  goods  a  handsome  store,  for  a  boy. 
Still  I  had  rather  by  far  preach,  which  I  hope  I  shall 
soon  be  able  to  do.  We  have  a  fortnight's  vaca 
tion  at  Christmas,  at  which  time  I  intend  to  "  come 
home,"  though  I  do  most  heartily  abhor  the  process 
of  riding  a  hundred  miles  a  day  in  a  stage-coach. 

CAMBRIDGE,  May  3,  1826. 

MY  DEAR  MARIANNE,  —  ...  I  could  have 
wished,  for  more  reasons  than  one,  that  mother  might 
find  it  in  her  heart  to  accompany  father,  as  her 
Boston  friends  are  very  desirous  to  see  her,  as  the 
journey  might  benefit  her  health,  and  as  I  myself 
have  various  matters  of  grave  import,  which  it  would 
gratify  me  to  hear  her  discourse  upon  with  her  moth 
erly  wisdom  and  sympathy.  What  these  matters  are 
you  perhaps  can  conjecture.  I  shall  not  unfold  them 
until  I  am  brought,  in  the  gradual  progress  of  events, 
unto  this  page  of  my  letter.  Well,  I  have  come  to 
this  point.  In  your  last  letter  you  asked  me  what 
were  my  prospects  on  the  subject  which  was  nearest 
to  my  earthly  happiness  ;  then,  I  should  have  an 
swered,  all  was  black  darkness.  Now,  my  dearest 
Marianne,  by  a  most  unexpected  train  of  events,  the 
obstacles  to  our  affection  are  removed  ;  a  just  regard 
to  prudence  does  not  forbid  us  to  cherish  an  attach 
ment  which  has  long  been  the  secret  idol  of  our 
3 


34  GEORGE  RIP  LEY. 

hearts  ;  and  yesterday  our  circle  of  de:ir  friends  were 
edified  by  the  intelligence  of  a  new  engagement! 
The  details  of  all  this  I  shall  hereafter  explain. 
You  will  know  this  being  whose  influence  over  me 
for  the  y.-.u-  past  has  so  much  elevated,  strengthened, 
and  refined  my  character.  You  will  entirely  sym 
pathize  with  me.  I  cannot  now  write  to  my  parents, 
who,  I  am  sure,  cannot  disapprove  the  step  I  have 
taken,  when  you  expound  to  them  all  the  circum 
stances,  —  which  I  wish  you  to  do  as  copiously  as  you 
can.  The  whole  matter  meets  with  the  most  sur 
prising  approbation  and  sympathy  from  the  whole 
society  of  Cambridge.  The  most  just,  proper,  nat 
ural,  lit.  reasonable,  delightful  connection,  sav  they, 
that  has  b«vn  known  for  a  long  time.  My  father 
may,  perhaps,  think  that  it  would  have  hr.-u  more 
prudent  for  me  to  have  deferred  this  consummation 
until  my  prospects  in  an  uncertain  and  trying  pro 
fession  were  more  definite.  To  this  I  have  to  say, 
my  wisest  friends  assert  that  my  prospects  of  pro 
fessional  success,  in  the  highest  sense  of  the  term, 
are  tolerably  fair, —  so  much  so  as  entirely  to  justify 
this  arrangement.  What  can  be  depended  upon  still 
more,  I  say  myself  that  for  nine  years  I  have  relied 
upon  the  blessing  of  a  kind  Providence  given  to  my 
own  personal,  active,  patient  efforts.  In  this  I  have 
not  been  disappointed,  and  it  is  the  course  which  I 
fully  intend  to  pursue.  It  has  never  been  my  wi>h, 
you  all  know,  to  be  a  rich  man,  nor  what  the  world 
calls  &  great  man,  but  to  be  a  respected,  useful,  and 
happy  man.  And  this  connection,  which  is  founded 


ORDINATION. 


not  upon  any  romantic  or  suddei 
great  respect  for  intellectual 
deep  and  true  Christian  piety,  and 
ment  and  dignity  of  character,  promises,  I  think,  to 
advance  me  in  the  best  way  in  this  life,  and  to  aid 
me,  above  all,  in  the  great  end  of  life,  the  prepara 
tion  for  heaven.  My  mother  will  recollect  her  great 
admiration  of  Dr.  Jackson.  You  will  inform  her 
how  deeply  he  is  interested,  how  valuable  his  friend 
ship,  how  paternal  his  advice. 

Truly  your  own  brother,  GEORGE. 

CAMBRIDGE,  August  25,  1828. 

MY  DEAR  MARIANNE,  —  I  received  a  letter  from 
you,  —  a  singular  rarity,  —  which  I  fully  believe  I 
answered  soon  after  the  occurrence  of  the  auspicious 
event ;  but  as  I  have  had  no  returns  from  Green 
field,  a  slight  suspicion  glances  over  my  mind  that 
instead  of  actually  replying  to  your  letter  1  mistook 
the  will  for  the  deed.  Is  it  so  ?  ...  I  begin  to 
preach  at  Purchase  Street  on  the  next  Lord's  Day  ; 
I  have  then  an  invitation  to  renew  my  engagement 
at  Chauncy  Place  for  an  indefinite  time  ;  and  lastly, 
a  Macedonian  cry  is  heard  from  Baltimore,  "  Come 
over  and  help  us,"  to  which  I  do  not  turn  the  deaf  ad 
der's  ear,  but  partially  engage  to  spend  some  weeks  of 
the  winter  in  that  benighted  city.  I  wash  my  hands 
of  this  college  on  the  first  day  of  October  next ;  and 
hope  from  that  time  to  eschew  the  delightful  task  of 
directing  the  young  idea  in  all  its  various  ramifica 
tions,  and  to  turn  my  attention  to  the  nobler  labor 


36  GEORGE  RIP  LEY. 

of   influencing   grown    men  on  the   most   important 
subjects.  .  .  . 

On  his  leaving  Cambridge,  in  1826,  he  was 
at  once  ordained  pastor  of  a  Unitarian  society 
gathered  expressly  for  him  in  what  was  then  a 
.respectable  part  of  Boston.  The  new  meeting 
house  at  the  corner  of  Purchase  and  Pearl 
Streets,  near  Griffin's  Wharf,  where  the  tea- 
ships  lay  in  the  old  time,  was  built  for  its  use. 
It  was  a  remarkably  unattractive  structure  of 
stone,  with  a  small  belfry  on  the  top.  The  in 
side  was  as  homely  as  the  outside.  It  was  ca 
pable  of  holding  about  three  hundred  people. 
The  corner-stone  was  laid  on  the  7th  of  Sep 
tember,  1825.  On  that  occasion  Henry  Ware 
delivered  an  address,  in  which  he  described  the 
building  to  be  erected  as  "  not  magnificent,  but 
simple  and  unostentatious  like  the  faith  to  which 
it  is  devoted  ;"  spoke  of  "  the  great  principles 
of  the  Reformation,"  4'the  right  of  private  judg 
ment,"  and  added,  "No  articles  of  faith  shall 
call  in  question  the  sufficiency  of  the  Script 
ures  ;"  "  Our  platform  is  as  wide  and  generous 
as  the  spirit  of  our  religion  itself ;  "  "  If  it  were 
possible  in  this  disturbed  day,  we  could  long 
and  hope  that  here  might  be  neutral  ground. 
The  day  [for  this]  is  coming  at  length."  In 
conclusion  he  said:  "Where  the  heavens  now 
swell  above  us,  declaring  their  Maker's  glory, 


TEE   CORNER-STONE.  37 

shall  soon  be  interposed  a  roof  of  human  work 
manship,  beneath  which  shall  be  declared  the 
brighter  glory  of  his  redeeming  love.  We  shall 
intercept  the  light  of  yonder  sun,  whose  beams 
shall  no  more  fall  upon  this  floor  ;  but  the  more 
reviving  beams  of  the  '  Sun  of  Righteousness  * 
shall  rest  there  without  a  cloud.  The  dews  of 
night  shall  come  down  upon  this  spot  no  more, 
and  the  winds  of  the  ocean  shall  henceforth  be 
excluded ;  but  the  dews  of  divine  grace,  as  we 
trust,  shall  plenteously  visit  it,  and  the  gentle 
breathings  of  the  Holy  Spirit  shall  never  cease 
to  shed  upon  it  life  and  peace  ;  and  from  this 
place,  where  now,  perhaps,  for  the  first  time, 
the  voice  of  Christian  worship  has  ascended  to 
heaven,  there  shall  forever  go  up,  to  the  end  of 
time,  incense  and  a  pure  offering  from  multi 
tudes  of  humble  and  believing  hearts.  Let  us 
go  hence  with  this  persuasion." 

Ah,  how  short  is  the  keenest  human  vision  I 
The  multitude  never  came  ;  the  "respectable" 
people  gradually  left  that  quarter  of  the  town, 
which  was  rapidly  occupied  by  the  dwellers 
in  tenement  houses.  In  less  than  twenty-five 
years  the  building  was  sold  to  the  Catholics  for 
thirty  thousand  dollars  ;  the  fire  of  1872  swept 
it  away,  and  now  nothing  remains  of  the  church 
so  hopefully  planted.  The  leather  interest  has 
taken  possession  of  the  site  so  poetically  dedi- 


38  GEORGE  RIP  LEY. 

cated  to  the  uses  of  religion,  and  the  visitor  in 
that  region  recalls  the  words  addressed  to  Shy- 
lock  in  the  well  known  trial  scene,  "  Not  on  thy 
soul,  but  on  thy  sole." 

The  dedication  took  place  August  24,  1826; 
the  ordination  followed  on  the  8th  of  Novem 
ber.  It  is  evidence  of  the  promise  of  the  new 
ministry  that  the  president  of  Harvard  College, 
Dr.  Kirk  land,  preached  the  sermon  ;  that  Dr. 
Lowell  made  the  prayer  of  ordination ;  that 
Dr.  Ware  gave  the  charge.  The  other  clergy 
men  officiating,  Alexander  Young  and  Ezra  S. 
Gannett,  were  then  less  known.  The  young 
pastor  began  his  career  under  brave  though 
"conservative  "  auspices. 

BOSTON,  November  26,  1826. 

MY  DKAR  MOTHER,  —  ...  I  am  just  beginning 
to  feel  at  home  in  my  new  habitation  in  Williams 
Street,  and  on  many  accounts  I  find  it  a  most  desira 
ble  situation.  The  family  are  everything  that  I  could 
wish,  and  are  more  devoted  to  the  task  of  making 
me  comfortable  than  one  could  expect  from  strangers. 
I  am  in  a  very  central  spot,  not  far  from  my  church, 
in  the  midst  of  my  people,  contiguous  to  all  my 
haunts,  such  as  the  Athenaeum,  bookstores,  etc.,  and 
at  the  same  time  it  is  quiet  and  retired  as  the  coun 
try  ;  and  I  can  sit  and  study,  near  indeed  to  the  busy 
world,  but  undisturbed  by  its  noise,  and  almost,  I 
might  say,  out  of  the  reach  of  its  temptations.  My 


MINISTRY.  39 

rooms  are  pleasant,  and  furnished  in  a  style  of  simple 
neatness,  which  is  as  agreeable  to  my  feelings  as  it  is 
to  my  circumstances.  .  .  . 

I  have  become  acquainted  with  several  families  in 
my  society,  and  am  better  pleased  than  I  at  first  ex 
pected.  They  are  chiefly  from  the  middling  classes 
of  society,  but  I  have  not  yet  learned  that  intelligence 
and  piety  are  confined  to  any  one  class.  I  am  sure 
of  this,  that  what  little  experience  I  have  had  in  the 
more  elevated  walks  will  not  here  be  lost,  and  I 
trust  I  may  be  able  to  communicate  some  good  influ 
ence  from  the  habits  of  feeling  which  prevail  in  a  dif 
ferent  sphere.  I  am  pretty  well  satisfied  that  I  shall 
be  happier  in  the  city  than  I  could  ever  be  in  the 
country.  I  have  access  to  sources  of  improvement 
and  enjoyment  here  which  I  could  not  have  else 
where,  and  without  which  I  should  feel  that  some 
thing  important  was  wanting.  My  people  are  partic 
ularly  kind  to  me,  and  seem  disposed  to  receive  all 
my  attempts  to  move  them  with  real  indulgence.  I 
shall  try  not  to  be  unworthy  of  their  good-will.  My 
health  is  excellent,  and  I  hope  I  shall  be  able  to  pre 
serve  it  without  much  difficulty.  I  find  that  preach 
ing  agrees  with  my  constitution,  and  on  Monday 
morning  I  am  as  free  from  fatigue  as  if  I  had  been 
idle  the  day  before.  Affectionately  your  son, 

G.  RlPLEY. 

BOSTON,  January  9,  1827. 

.  .  .  My  hands  are  full  of  labor,  and  my  heart  with 
cares  for  my  own  people,  who,  although  a  little  band, 


40  GEORGE  R1PLEY. 

demand  a  great  deal  of  my  time  and  all  of  my  atten 
tion.  There  is  a  great  attention  to  leligion  at  this 
moment  throughout  the  city,  and  I  feel  it  a  bounden 
duty  to  do  what  I  can  to  promote  it,  and  to  direct  the 
excitement  into  a  proper  channel.  I  administered 
the  communion  for  the  first  time  yesterday,  and  ad 
mitted  nine  to  my  church,  for  some  of  whom  I  feel  a 
peculiar  interest,  as  they  have  been  led  to  the  step 
under  the  influence  of  my  preaching.  I  am  gratified 
at  the  serious  impressions  I  find  produced,  because 
they  assure  me  of  the  adaptation  of  rational  religion 
to  the  needs  and  sorrows  of  all  conditions  of  men. 
It  has  been  reproached  as  a  faith  merely  for  men  of 
intellect  and  taste.  It  is  so,  but  it  also  speaks  loudly 
to  the  poor  and  uneducated,  as  I  have  had  ample 
proof. 

Bosxox,  February  14,  1827. 

MY  DEAR  MOTHER,  —  I  have  little  to  say  about 
myself  but  that  I  am  quietly  peering  about  the  streets 
and  lanes  of  the  city,  dropping  the  good  seeds  of  Chris 
tian  truth  wherever  I  find  a  prepared  mind,  and  once 
a  week  enforcing  what  I  say  in  private  by  a  more 
elaborate  argument  in  public.  My  society  is  growing 
tranquilly  by  my  side.  It  is  now  quite  an  infant,  and 
needs  gentle  nursing,  but  I  hope  it  will  live  and  ad 
vance  to  the  stature  of  a  perfect  man. 

Yours  affectionately,  G.  R. 

Later  in  this  year  Mr.  Ripley  was  married  to 
the  lady  referred  to  in  the  letters,  Miss  Sophia 
Willard  Dana,  daughter  of  Francis  Dana,  of 


MARRIAGE.  41 

Cambridge,  and  from  that  time  lived  in  what  is 
now  Chauncy  Street.  The  union  was  an  ex 
ceedingly  happy  one,  a  union  of  mind  and  heart ; 
spoken  of  by  one  who  knew  them  both  as  u  an 
ideal  union."  There  was  entire  sympathy  in 
all  things. 

These  were  the  palmy  days  of  Unitarianism. 
Societies  were  formed  in  different  parts  of  the 
city;  meeting-houses  were  built;  money  was 
raised ;  missionaries  were  employed.  In  that  de 
cade  the  "Ministry  at  Large"  established  three 
chapels :  one  in  Warren  Street,  one  in  Pitts 
Street,  and  one  in  Suffolk  Street.  Dr.  Chan- 
ning,  assisted  by  Mr.  Gannett,  was  preaching 
in  Federal  Street;  Henry  Ware  in  Hanover 
Street,  F.  W.  P.  Greenwood  at  King's  Chapel, 
J.  G.  Palfrey  in  Brattle  Street,  Francis  Park- 
man  in  Hanover  Street,  Alexander  Young  in 
Summer  Street,  John  Pierpont  in  Hollis  Street, 
Charles  Lowell  in  Lynde  Street,  Samuel  Bar 
rett  in  Chambers  Street,  N.  L.  Frothingham  in 
Chauncy  Place,  M.  I.  Motte  in  Washington 
Street ;  James  Walker  was  at  Charlestown,  Ca 
leb  Stetson  was  at  Medford,  John  Pierce  was  at 
Brookline. 

Unitarianism  had  but  recently  become  aware 
of  its  existence  as  a  distinct  form  of  the  Prot 
estant  faith.  The  habit  of  free  inquiry,  once 
formed,  went  steadily  but  silently  on,  ques- 


42  GEORGE  R1TLEY. 

tioning  doctrines,  criticising  texts,  examining 
grounds  of  belief,  disputing  fundamental  dog 
mas,  till,  unconsciously,  the  whole  position  was 
altered.  The  records  of  the  First  Church  in 
Boston,  now  more  than  two  hundred  and  fifty 
years  ol.d,  nowhere  intimate  that  its  harmony 
was  disturbed  ;  its  members  chose  pastors  t'n>m 
generation  to  generation  without  the  least  diffi 
culty  on  the  score  of  doctrinal  belief,  though  its 
actual  minister  was  one  of  the  foremost  teachers 
of  the  so-called  "  Liberal  "  school.  Mr.  Chan- 
ning's  celebrated  sermon  at  the  ordination  of 
Jared  Sparks  in  Baltimore  was  preached  in 
1819.  The  discussion  began  immediately  after, 

—  Channing  taking  issue  with   Dr.   Miller  of 
Princeton,   Norton    standing  up  against   Moses 
Stuart  on  the  question  between   unity  and  trin 
ity,  Ware  facing  Dr.  Woods  as  an  assailant  of 
the  dogmas  of  Calvinism. 

The  Unitarianism  of  the  period  we  are  con 
sidering  was  a  dignified  form  of  Christianity. — 
sober,  thoughtful,  serious.  .It  was  the  religion 
of  the  most  intellectual  men  in  the  community, 

—  men  like  Judge  Shaw,  Judge  Story,  Judge 
White,  —  who  clung  to  Christianity  with  the 
tenacious  hold  of  an  honest  reverence   and   a 
strong   conviction.      Its    historical  foundations 
they  regarded  as  established  ;  its  founder  they 
revered  as  a  miraculously  authenticated  teach 


UNITARIANISM.  43 

er;  they  cherished  a  sentiment  of  deep  rational 
piety,  principles  of  strict  personal  morality,  and 
a  remarkably  high  standard  of  public  virtue. 
They  knew  nothing  of  theological  subtleties  or 
critical  refinements.  Here  and  there  a  preacher 
laid  vehement  stress  on  points  of  controversial 
theology  ;  now  and  then  a  congregation  was 
asked  to  listen  more  often  than  was  necessary 
to  prosaic  homilies  on  texts  of  Scripture,  or  to 
discourses  on  personal  morals  ;  but  in  the  main 
the  style  of  pulpit  administration  was  devout 
and  spiritual.  "Sensational"  sermons  were 
not  in  vogue  ;  a  quiet,  even  strain  of  public 
speech,  manly  and  elevating,  prevailed.  The 
"  water  of  life,"  if  cold,  was  pure  ;  if  not  spark 
ling,  it  was  fresh.  There  was  no  fanaticism, 
little  enthusiasm  ;  but  of  superstition  there  was 
absolutely  none.  Both  ministers  and  people 
were  persuaded  that  they  could  give  a  reason 
for  the  faith  that  was  in  them  and  out  of  them. 
Rational  they  may  have  been,  to  a  fault.  They 
had  lost  the  sense  of  mystery  ;  they  put  thought 
before  feeling  ;  substituted  sight  for  insight ; 
set  knowledge  in  advance  of  faith.  But  they 
were  high-minded,  full  of  fear  toward  God  and 
of  love  toward  the  Saviour.  They  read  their 
Bibles  with  reverence,  said  their  prayers  morn 
ing  and  evening,  and  kept  holy  the  Lord's  Day. 
The  spirit  of  skepticism  was  not  in  them.  Of 


44  GEORGE  RIP  LEY. 

"  philosophy,"  —  whether  German,  French,  or 
English,  —  they  were  as  innocent  as  new-born 
babes.  In  their  view  the  clerical  profession  was 
exalted  above  all  others  ;  the  minister  was  a 
man  set  apart.  They  had  not  fairly  begun  to 
express  dissatisfaction  with  the  regular  dispen 
sation  of  the  Word.  The  modern  spirit  of  in 
dividualism,  which  so  often  arrays  the  pew 
against  the  pulpit,  had  not  risen  to  its  present 
stature.  Occasional  murmurings  were  heard 
against  this  preacher  because  he  did  not  "draw;" 
against  that  one  because  he  was  inattentive  in 
the  way  of  parish  calls  ;  against  a  third  because 
he  was  too  young,  or  too  flowery,  or  too  heed 
less  of  the  proprieties,  or  too  unattractive  to 
those  who  wore  the  first-class  bonnets,  the  red 
caps,  or  the  white  wigs  :  but,  on  the  whole,  so 
cieties  were  docile.  There  was  no  schism  and 
no  threat  of  schism  in  the  body.  Theodore 
Parker's  disturbing  sermon  at  South  Boston 
was  not  preached  till  1841 ;  and  even  that  was 
heard  without  alarm.  Mr.  Emerson  left  the 
ministry  in  1832,  because  he  could  not  admin 
ister  the  rite  of  communion.  So  unsuspecting 
of  danger  were  the  leaders  of  the  sect  that  in 
1834  the  Association  printed  as  a  tract  James 
Walker's  admirable  address,  entitled  "  The  Phi 
losophy  of  Man's  Spiritual  Nature  in  regard  to 
the  Foundations  of  Faith,"  in  which  doctrines 


PERSONAL  APPEARANCE.  45 

of  a  "  transcendental "  complexion  were  ad 
vanced.  The  "Liberal"  movement  had  not 
entered  on  its  third  stage  when  George  Ripley 
was  ordained. 

He  was  no  unbeliever,  no  skeptic,  no  inno 
vator  in  matters  of  opinion  or  observance,  but 
a  quiet  student,  a  scholar,  a  man  of  books,  a 
calm,  bright-minded,  high-souled  thinker  ;  be 
lieving,  hopeful,  social,  sunny,  but  absorbed  in 
philosophical  pursuits.  Well  does  the  writer  of 
these  lines  recall  the  vision  of  a  slender  figure, 
wearing  in  summer  the  flowing  silk  robe,  in 
winter  the  long  dark  blue  cloak,  of  the  profes 
sion,  walking  with  measured  step  from  his  resi 
dence  in  Rowe  Place  towards  the  meeting-house 
in  Purchase  Street.  The  face  was  shaven  clean ; 
the  brown  hair  curled  in  close,  crisp  ringlets; 
the  face  was  pale  as  if  with  thought  ;  gold- 
rimmed  spectacles  concealed  the  black  eyes ;  the 
head  was  alternately  bent  and  raised.  No  one 
could  have  guessed  that  the  man  had  in  him  the 
fund  of  humor  in  which  his  friends  delighted, 
or  the  heroism  in  social  reform  which,  a  few 
years  later,  amazed  the  community.  He  seemed 
a  sober,  devoted  minister  of  the  gospel,  formal, 
punctilious,  ascetic,  a  trifle  forbidding  to  the 
stranger.  But  even  then  the  new  thoughts  of 
the  age  were  at  work  within  him. 

On  the  fly-leaf  of  his  commonplace  book  Mil- 


46  GEORGE  RIPLEY. 

ton,  Cicero,  and  Bacon  are  quoted  in  praise  of 
philosophy,  —  Bacon's  language  being  given 
with  emphasis  :  "  Life  without  pursuit  is  a  vague 
and  languid  thing."  "  Cicero  gives  it  as  a  high 
commendation  to  Cato  that  he  embraced  phi 
losophy,  not  for  the  purpose  of  disputing,  as 
most  do,  but  of  living  philosophically."  He 
had  a  remarkably  fine  library,  containing  many 
French  and  German  books:  much  of  Kant, 
Schleiermacher,  Herder,  De  Wette,  Cousin, 
Jouffroy ;  something  of  Hegel;  Schopenhauer's 
"Die  Welt  als  Wille  und  Vorstellung"  (1819); 
the  latest  known  volumes  of  biblical  criticism; 
Paulas,  Bauer,  Tholuck,  Lucke ;  Bertholdt's 
"  Einleitung,"  Winer's  "  Handbuch  der  Theo- 
logischen  Literatur,"  Bretschneider,  Ammon, 
Reinhard,  Ritter ;  histories  of  philosophy,  both 
general  and  special ;  Constant,  Vico,  Fichte, 
Cabanis,  Eichhorn;  a  few  books,  now  forgotten, 
about  the  origin  of  Christianity  ;  a  little  of  Goe 
the  and  Schiller,  Luther's  Werke,  Baumgarten- 
Crusius;  Heydenreich's  "  Betrachtungen,"  and 
"Natur  und  Gott,  nach  Spinoza,"  Wieland's 
"  Ueber  W under,'  Gfrorer's  "  Giordano  Bruno," 
and  miscellaneous  works  in  morals  and  philoso 
phy.  Some  of  his  books  were  imported,  but 
many  of  them  were  brought  from  abroad  by  a 
young  American,  who  studied  divinity  at  Cam 
bridge,  became  an  enthusiastic  disciple  of  Dr, 


PREACHING.  47 

Spurzheim,  went  to  Germany  to  study  anatomy, 
lost  his  Christian  faith,  returned  to  America, 
bringing  a  library  with  him,  and,  while  still 
comparatively  young,  died  in  Boston.  Mr.  Rip- 
ley  studied  his  books  faithfully,  and  made  his 
reading  enrich  his  mind.  None  of  the  critical 
or  metaphysical  lore  got  into  his  sermons,  which 
were  simple,  clear,  calm,  systematic,  not  elo 
quent,  but  pervaded  by  a  keen,  lambent  light, 
and  in  passages  animated  by  a  singular  intel 
lectual  glow,  as  of  an  aurora  borealis.  Two  or 
three  remain  to  us  in  manuscript.  They  breathe 
and  convey  the  air  of  the  new  ideas,  but  are 
wholly  destitute  of  controversial  heat,  and  be 
tray  no  sign  of  the  existence  of  a  different  phi 
losophy  from  his  own.  One  of  them,  preached 
in  1837,  entitled  "  Common  Sense  in  the  Affairs 
of  Religion  "  (marked  419),  assumes  the  pres 
ence  of  a  universal  sentiment  which  guides  men 
through  the  devious  ways  of  faith,  and  delivers, 
or  should  deliver,  them  from  the  dangers  that 
lurk  in  the  path  ;  securing  to  them  unanimity 
in  opinion,  liberty  of  conscience,  a  spirit  of  as 
piration  and  progress,  and  a  prevailing  interest 
in  spiritual  things.  The  discourse  ends  with  a 
noble  strain  of  appeal  in  behalf  of  freedom  in 
thought  and  life.  Another  sermon,  on  "  Jesus 
Christ,  the  same  Yesterday,  To-day,  and  For 
ever,"  contends  that  the  history  of  man  is  a 


48  GEORGE  RIP  LEY. 

religious  history  ;  that  religious  truths  always 
have  existed  ;  that  "  the  religious  ideas  which 
were  set  forth  by  Jesus  Christ,  as  they  had 
been  displayed  before  in  other  forms,  still  ex 
ert  an  efficient  influence  on  the  soul  of  man  ;  " 
that,  in  their  essential  form,  they  will  never 
cease  to  influence  human  souls.  This  was  a 
favorite  sermon.  First  preached  in  1834,  it 
was  repeated  in  1839,  delivered  nine  or  ten 
times  to  other  congregations,  given  twice  on 
Christmas  occasions,  once  at  an  installation, 
once  at  O.  A.  Brownson's.  It  contains  the  sub 
stance  of  Theodore  Parker's  sermon  on  the 
"  Transient  and  Permanent  in  Christianity," 
but  stated  so  luminously,  persuasively,  and  in 
such  uncritical  terms  as  to  awaken  no  dissent. 
It  was  the  word  of  a  hearty  believer,  uncon 
cerned  with  the  thankless  task  of  denying, 
which  was  laid  on  the  reformer  of  Spring  Street. 
George  Ripley  was  a  disciple  of  the  intuitive 
philosophy  then  coming  into  authority  among 
liberal  scholars  in  Europe  and  America.  The  phi 
losophy  called  "transcendental,"  which  claimed 
for  human  nature  a  spiritual  faculty,  by  virtue 
of  which  truths  of  the  spiritual  order  could  be 
clearly  discerned,  was  coming  into  favor.  The 
assumption  was  precisely  the  opposite  to  that 
set  up  by  theologians  who  maintained  that  spir 
itual  knowledge  came  from  above  by  special 


TRANS  CENDENTA  L  IS 

grace,  and  was  bestowed  on  believe 
of  their  redemption  from  the  thraldoi 
natural  mind.  That  debased  humanity ;  this 
exalted  it.  That  regarded  man  as  depraved ; 
this  regarded  him  as  puissant.  That  classed 
human  beings  with  the  creatures  of  sin ;  this 
ranked  them  with  the  angels.  Transcendental 
ism,  in  its  full  form,  was  a  deification  of  Nature. 
But  with  its  earliest  teachers  and  prophets  — 
Channing,  Emerson,  Walker,  Ripley,  Parker  — 
it  signified  merely  a  new,  broad,  ideal  faith,  un- 
sectarian,  spiritual,  earnest.  George  Ripley  be 
lieved,  without  misgiving,  in  religion  as  a  gift 
from  heaven,  and  in  Christianity  as  a  divine 
communication  to  man.  In  the  discourse  to 
which  reference  has  just  been  made,  he  says : 
"  We  can  have  no  doubt  that  religion  will  al 
ways  be  perpetuated  by  the  same  causes  which 
first  gave  it  existence.  We  regard  it  as  an  ema 
nation  from  the  Eternal  Mind."  "  These  attri 
butes  [eternity,  unchangeableness]  are  applied 
to  our  Saviour,  because  his  mind  was  so  filled 
and  penetrated  with  the  power  of  religious  truth 
as  to  be  identical  with  it  as  existing  in  the  Di 
vine  Mind,  — as  to  be  the  Truth,  as  well  as  the 
way  and  the  life."  He  constantly  calls  Christ 
"  Saviour,"  speaking  of  him  with  deepest  rev 
erence  as  the  highest  of  all  the  soul's  proph 
ets.  His  views  on  the  subject  of  inspiration, 
4 


50  GEORGE  RIPLET. 

then  "beginning  to  agitate  the  thinking  world, 
are  expressed  with  clearness  and  candor  in  the 
remarkable  review  of  Martineau's  "Rationale 
of  Religions  Inquiry,"  published  in  the  "Chris 
tian  Kxaminer  "  for  November,  1836,  —  the 
same  year,  it  may  be  observed,  in  which  appeared 
the  first  volume  of  Norton's  "Genuineness of  the 
Gospels,"  and  Furness's  "  Remarks  on  the  Four 
Gospels."  His  position  is  that  "  necessary  and 
universal  truths"  are  divinely  implanted  in 
man's  spiritual  constitution,  like  the  axioms  of 
geometry,  intuitively  recognized  as  true.  Touch 
ing  Christ,  he  writes:  "His  soul  was  a  sea  of 
light.  All  that  was  human  in  the  Son  of  the 
Virgin  ;  all  that  belonged  to  his  personality  as 
a  Jewish  teacher;  all  that  marks  the  secondary, 
derived,  and  fallible  in  the  nature  of  man,  as 
distinguished  from  the  primitive,  the  infallible, 
and  divine,  was  swallowed  up,  and,  as  it  were, 
annihilated  in  the  fullness  of  the  Spirit  which 
dwelt  in  him,  in  those  kingly  ideas  of  Truth  and 
Good  which  sustain  the  authority  of  the  Eter 
nal  Throne,  and  authenticated  the  man  of  Naz 
areth  as  the  Son  of  God,  the  visible  tabernacle 
of  the  Word  which  was  made  flesh  and  dwelt 
among  us." 

These  would  be  accepted  now  as  moderate 
opinions,  though  when  spoken  they  were  pro 
nounced  dangerous.  How  far  they  were  altered 


TRANSCENDENTALISM.  51 

or  dropped  in  after  life  it  would  not  be  quite 
safe  to  say.  The  philosophical  basis  on  which 
they  rested  remained  unmoved  to  the  end,  as 
his  papers  in  the  "  Tribune,"  especially  his  re 
view  of  Bascom's  "  Comparative  Psychology," 
will  bear  witness.  In  the  summer  of  1878  he 
read  with  great  interest  Hartmann's  "  Philos 
ophy  of  the  Unconscious,"  making  notes  as  he 
read.  These  notes  contain  evidence,  less  in  the 
form  of  actual  expression  than  in  the  selection 
of  passages  quoted,  of  his  adherence  to  the  intu 
itive  system  of  thought.  He  was  in  no  sense 
or  degree  a  materialist,  and,  though  connecting 
himself  with  an  independent  society  of  a  decid 
edly  radical  school,  he  held  fast  his  faith  in  be 
liefs  which  his  minister  dismissed.  His  appeal 
was  still  to  consciousness  and  the  soul.  Of  doc 
trines  he  had  little  to  say,  being  content  to  see 
them  change  and  pass  away,  but  the  substance 
of  spiritual  conviction  he  retained  to  the  last. 

Mr.  Ripley  called  himself  a  child  of  Chan- 
ning,  and  so  he  was  in  the  sense  of  sharing  his 
essential  views.  Channing,  too,  was  accused  of 
'rash  speculation,"  perhaps  because  he  would 
utter  words  like  the  following :  "  We  believe 
that  the  human  mind  is  akin  to  that  intellectual 
energy  which  gave  birth  to  nature,  and  conse 
quently  that  it  contains  within  itself  the  sem 
inal  and  prolific  principles  from  which  nat- 


52  GEORGE  RIPLEY. 

ure  sprung."  l  A  child  of  that  grc.it  spiritual 
prophet  —  that  sayer  of  thoughts  which  ex 
pressed  the  spirit  of  his  age,  and  stirred  the 
souls  of  men  on  either  side  of  the  Atlantic  Ocean 
—  he  certainly  was  not.  He  was  lacking  in  the 
gift  of  thrilling  speech.  His  convictions  did  not 
[fall  glowing  from  his  lips.  His  ideas,  though 
clear,  cogent,  and  earnestly  put  forth,  did  no 
execution.  In  a  small  room,  among  personal 
friends,  on  his  own  themes,  and  following  his 
own  impulse,  he  was  eloquent,  persuasive,  en 
chanting  ;  but  in  a  meeting-house,  on  a  formal 
occasion,  before  a  mixed  audience,  on  imper 
sonal  subjects,  he  was  unimpassioned,  almost 
cold.  He  must  have  his  hearer  within  arm's 
length  ;  then  his  full  power  was  felt.  Indi 
vidually  his  parishioners  were  much  attached 
to  him.  They  found  him  delightful  in  their 
homes ;  a  true  friend,  sympathetic  and  consol 
ing,  more  than  ready  in  all  cases  of  need  with 
counsel  and  assistance.  For  many  years  after 
his  ministry  ceased,  those  who  had  known  him 
as  a  pastor  spoke  of  him  with  a  depth  of  affec 
tion  which  nothing  but  faithful  service  could 
justify  or  explain.  A  few  still  live  to  speak 
tender  words  in  his  memory. 

There  is  an  impression  abroad  that  Mr.  Rip- 
ley  was  an  uninteresting  preacher,  but  such  was 

1  Sermons,  1830,  8vo,  p.  189. 


PREACHING.  53 

not  the  universal  opinion.  During  a  visit  to 
Ohio  in  1838,  his  discourses,  especially  those 
which  he  delivered  without  notes,  excited  great 
enthusiasm.  Men  of  mark  flocked  about  him, 
urged  him  to  prolong  his  stay  with  them,  spoke 
of  his  sermons  as  the  finest  they  had  ever  list 
ened  to.  One  man,  the  agent  of  a  canal  com 
pany,  sent  travelling  passes  to  him  and  his  wife. 
Another  expressed  his  willingness  to  subscribe 
handsomely  for  the  maintenance  of  such  an  ad 
ministration  of  religion.  Like  many  men,  he 
felt  the  influence  of  new  people  and  places,  and 
spoke  most  winningly  when  "  off  duty." 

He  was  often  called  on  to  perform  services 
for  friends  in  the  ministry.  At  the  ordination 
of  J.  S.  Dwight,  at  Northampton  (May  20, 
1840),  he  preached  on  the  "  Claims  of  the  Age 
on  the  Work  of  the  Evangelist,"  saying,  in  the 
course  of  the  sermon  (it  was  on  the  eve  of  the 
Brook  Farm  experiment),  "The  true  work  of 
the  evangelist  at  the  present  day  is  to  bring  the 
religion  of  society  into  accordance  with  the  re 
ligion  of  Christ."  In  1837  he  presented  the 
fellowship  of  the  churches  to  his  young  friend 
Theodore  Parker.  On  the  4th  of  July,  1839, 
he  offered  prayer  at  the  public  celebration  in 
the  Odeon.  He  was  constant  in  his  attendance 
at  the  ministers'  meetings,  and  on  all  occasions 
of  discussion  or  of  conversation,  in  which  mat- 


54  GEORGE  RIFLE Y. 

ters  of  social,  philosophical,  or  religious  concern 
were  brought  up.  At  such  times  he  was  always 
listened  to  with  interest,  and  easily  held  his 
own  among  eloquent,  wise,  instructed  men. 
None  were  brighter,  wittier,  heartier,  or  more 
suggestive  than  he,  always  frank,  always  spark 
ling,  lie  was  a  member  of  the  first  transcend 
ental  coterie  that  met  in  Cambridge,  the  nu 
cleus  of  all  future  organizations. 

The  lirht  meeting  of  the  Transcendental  Club 
was  at  his  house,  on  the  19th  of  September, 
1836.  There  were  present,  beside  the  host,  R. 
W.  Emerson,  F.  H.  Hedge,  C.  Francis,  J.  F. 
Clarke,  and  A.  B.  Alcott.  It  was  a  preliminary 
meeting,  to  see  how  far  it  might  be  possible  for 
earnest  minds  to  meet  and  communicate  their 
thoughts  without  formality.  At  the  second 
meeting,  O.  A.  Brownson  and  C.  A.  Bartol 
were  present.  At  that  time  theology  was  a 
theme  of  general  interest  and  discussion.  Dr. 
Beecher,  Andrews  Norton,  Dr.  Channing,  were 
names  on  all  lips.  Mr.  Emerson,  in  December, 
gave  the  first  of  a  series  of  lectures  in  Boston, 
the  subjects  being  "History,"  "Art,"  "Sci 
ence,"  "  Literature,"  "  Politics,"  "  Religion," 
"Society,"  "Trades  and  Professions,"  "Man 
ners,"  "  Ethics,"  "  The  Present  Age  "  (two  lect 
ures).  In  1837,  Caleb  Stetson,  Theodore  Par 
ker,  Margaret  Fuller  (who  came  to  Boston  to 


0> 

TRANSCENDENTAL  CLUB.         \C~  55 

reside  in  1836),  and  Elizabeth  Peabody,  were 
added  to  the  club  ;  later,  Thomas  T.  Stone 
joined  it.  It  is  worth  noting  that  the  Massa 
chusetts  Board  of  Education  was  established  al 
most  contemporaneously  with  the  club.  At  the 
meetings,  Mr.  Emerson  was  usually  present; 
Mr.  Hedge,  too,  before  he  went  to  Bangor. 
The  topics  debated  turned  on  a  few  central 
ideas:  Law,  Truth,  Individuality,  the  Person 
ality  of  God.  The  last  point  came  up  in  con 
nection  with  matters  pertaining  to  Theology, 
Revelation,  Inspiration,  Providence.  An  ex 
treme  reaction  from  Puritan  concept  ions  set  in, 
leading  some  to  the  verge  of  pantheism,  and  to 
a  belief  in  the  sufficiency  of  the  human  mind 
to  itself,  in  all  emergencies.  The  conversation 
was  at  all  times  earnest  and  elevated,  though 
there  was  warm  discussion  over  some  of  the 
views  submitted. 

Theodore  Parker  describes  Mr.  Ripley  at  this 
time  as  discussing,  along  with  Dr.  Channing, 
"  with  great  power  of  thought  and  richness  of 
eloquence,"  the  question  of  the  progress  of  civ 
ilization.  "  Had  the  conversation  of  this  even 
ing,"  he  records,  "  been  written  out  by  Plato,  it 
would  equal  any  of  his  beautiful  dialogues." 
The  conversation  referred  to  was  held  in  the 
rooms  of  Mr.  Jonathan  Phillips,  at  the  Tremont 
House.  At  a  subsequent  meeting  Mr.  Ripley 


56  GEORGE  RIPLEY. 

is  instanced  as  taking  exception  to  the  imper 
sonal  conception  of  God  put  forth  by  Mr.  Ein- 
erson  in  a  remarkable  lecture.  This  was  in 
February,  1838.  Theodore  Parker  was  intro 
duced  to  Mr.  Ripley  by  his  classmate,  George 
E.  Ellis.  An  intimacy  grew  up  which  continued 
close  till  Parker's  death,  though  their  ministe 
rial  connection  was  short.  The  two  were  drawn 
together  by  a  deeply  rooted  sympathy  in  phil 
osophical  ideas,  by  a  common  philanthropic*! 
aim,  and  by  an  irrepressible  buoyancy  of  spirit. 
They  walked  and  talked  by  the  day.  In  1838, 
in  the  early  time  of  Parker's  ministry,  Ripley 
and  his  wife  spent  a  week  with  him  at  West 
Roxbury.  The  visit  was  remembered  fondly 
many  years  afterward.  "  We  were  full  of  joy 
and  laughter  all  the  time  of  their  visit."  When 
lying  ill  in  Boston,  after  a  surgical  operation, 
Parker  wrote,  November  1, 1858 :  "  Many  thanks 
for  your  friendship,  which  never  fails.  If  we 
could  lie  under  the  great  oak-tree  at  West  Rox 
bury,  or  ride  about  its  wild  little  lanes  together, 
I  should  soon  be  entirely  well,  for  the  vigor 
of  your  mind  would  inspire  strength  even  into 
my  body.  But  I  must  do  without  that,  only 
too  thankful  to  have  had  it  once."  Almost 
a  year  later,  January  10,  1859,  the  mortally 
sick  man  wrote  in  pencil  from  his  bed  in  Exe 
ter  Place :  "  Many  thanks,  my  dear  George,  to 


THEODORE  PARKER.  57 

you.  I  never  told  you  the  service  you  rendered 
me  in  1836  —  and  so  on.  Your  words  of  advice, 
of  profound  philosophic  thought,  and  still  more, 
of  lofty  cheer,  did  me  great  good.  I  count  your 
friendship  as  one  of  the  brightest  spots  in  my 
life,  which  has  had  a  deal  of  handsome  sun 
shine.  God  bless  you." 

They  were  very  different  men.  One  was  en 
grossed  in  books  ;  the  other  was  full  of  action. 
One  was  contemplative,  quiet,  thoughtful ;  the 
other  was  impetuous.  One  was  silent ;  the 
other  was  outspoken.  One  was  cautious  to  the 
verge  of  timidity ;  the  other  was  bold  to  the 
verge  of  rashness.  One  was  a  thinker,  taking 
no  part  in  agitation,  political  or  social ;  the  other 
was  a  reformer,  eager  to  apply  his  ideas  to  laws 
and  institutions.  But  their  faith  in  one  an 
other  was  constant.  The  following  letters  show 
how  Parker's  love  was  reciprocated. 

TRIBUNE  OFFICE,  N.  Y.,  February  28,  1856. 
MY  DEAR  THEODORE,  —  The  new  edition  of  your 
brave  book  came  to  hand  yesterday,  and  need  I  say 
your  friendly  and  tender  words  did  not  fail  to  touch 
my  heart.  Certain  it  is  that  from  my  first  acquaint 
ance  with  you,  my  sympathy  was  won  by  your  ro 
bust  devotion  to  truth,  and  your  cordial,  overflowing 
geniality  ;  but  that  you  could  have  ever  received  any 
encouragement  in  your  lofty  career  from  one  so  dis 
tant  from  your  orbit,  would  be  incredible  to  those 


58  GEORGE  RIP  LEY. 

who  did  not  know  that  you  combine  a  woman's  soft 
ness  of  feeling  with  your  manly  "  heart  of  oak."  But 
let  that  be  as  it  may,  our  friendship  lias  weathered 
many  a  winter  and  summer,  and  only  grown  brighter 
from  the  test  of  time  ;  and  it  is  always  a  pleasant 
thought  to  me  when  I  reflect  on  how  little  I  have 
brought  to  pass  for  my  day  and  generation,  that  at 
least  I  have  been  loyal  to  the  principles  of  truth  and 
freedom,  which  have  ripened  in  you  to  such  a  bounti 
ful  harvest  of  accomplishment.  I  can  sincerely  say 
that  I  rejoice  in  your  success  as  if  it  had  been  my 
own  ;  and  perhaps  you  will  not  deem  it  strange  if  I 
tell  you  how  perpetually  grateful  I  am  to  you  for 
presenting  to  the  world  an  example  of  a  true  man,  iu 
the  midst  of  the  dwarfs,  mountebanks,  satyrs,  and 
monkeys,  which  make  modern  society  so  mean  and 
false  and  hollow  and  repulsive. 

I  have  scarcely  looked  into  your  volume,  and 
probably  should  not  find  my  ancient  interest  in  its 
contents.  I  cannot  digest  any  religion  but  the  wor 
ship  of  the  Eternal  Word,  as  expounded  in  many 
"  colloquies  divine  "  with  you  ;  but  how  little  man  is 
prepared  for  such  a  pure  faith,  I  am  too  deeply  sensi 
ble.  Still,  if  the  world  is  not  an  audacious  "  quiz  of 
nature,"  as  Emerson  holds,  I  think  all  creeds  must 
ultimately  be  merged  in  this  "  positive,"  or,  as  you 
would  say,  "  absolute  "  religion. 

I  depend  on  seeing  you  next  week,  and  presume 
our  hospitable  and  reverential  Brace  has  a  breakfast 
in  contemplation. 

Good-by,  and  believe  me  ever  faithfully  yours, 

GEORGE  RIPLEY. 


F.  P.  COBBE.  59 

OFFICE  OF  THE  N.  Y.  TRIBUNE,  October  25,  1858. 

MY  DEAR  THEODORE,  —  I  truly  rejoice  that  you 
are  able  to  report  so  good  an  account  of  yourself. 
Heaven  send  that  your  complete  cure  may  be  as 
speedy  and  effectual  as  your  best  friends  could  wish. 
How  I  regret  that  I  have  no  nice  country  house,  in 
which  I  could  tempt  you  to  spend  the  languid  hours 
of  convalescence,  and  return  (not  repay)  your  kind 
ness  to  me  on  a  similar  occasion,  just  twenty  years 
ago  next  summer.  It  was  only  the  other  day  my 
wife  was  speaking  of  our  enjoyment  of  that  little  epi 
sode,  which  was,  in  fact,  the  causal  and  immediate 
antecedent  of  Brook  Farm,  with  all  its  wondrous  ex 
periences. 

I  have  looked  pretty  carefully  into  the  "  Intuitive 
Morals."  It  is  a  remarkable  production  for  any  one, 
especially  for  a  woman,  and  a  British  woman.  She 
sees  clearly  the  absolute  character  of  the  primary 
idea  of  right,  and  argues  the  question  manfully.  Her 
logic  is  as  genuine  as  her  learning,  which  is  almost 
unique.  The  second  volume  is  a  falling  off ;  but  it 
is  only  the  change  from  pure  theory  to  application, 
in  which  minds  of  her  cast  seldom  do  their  best. 
You  are  happy  to  know  such  a  person.  She  cannot 
be  frowzy  and  snuffy,  like  some  lady  theologians  on 
our  side  of  the  water. 

Don't  let  your  amanuensis  forget  me,  but  keep  me 
supplied  with  bulletins;  and  with  kind  remembrance 
to  your  household  saints,  believe  me  yours  ever, 

GEORGE  RIPLEY. 


60  GEORGE  RIPLEY. 

NEW  YORK,  January  15,  1859. 

MY  DEAR  THEODORE,  —  You  were  very  kind  to 
write  to  me  from  your  sick-bed,  which  I  trust  will 
soon  be  changed  into  the  couch  of  convalescence. 
With  your  great  fund  of  vitality  I  cannot  but  antici 
pate  a  speedy  restoration  to  your  usual  labors  ;  but  I 
am  sure  you  cannot  be  anxious  on  this  point,  as  you 
have  already  done  such  a  day's  work  in  the  harvest 
of  humanity,  and  even  in  the  midst  of  life  have  gath 
ered  such  a  store  of  autumn  sheaves. 

Whether  you  go  to  the  West  Indies  or  to  Europe, 
or  to  some  Ultima  Thule  yet  more  unknown,  you  will 
be  followed  by  the  benedictions  and  grateful  sympa 
thies  of  many  loving  hearts,  who  have  received  from 
you  their  first  impulses  to  truly  divine  and  beautiful 
things. 

My  wife  bids  me  give  you  her  kindest  remem 
brances,  and  the  assurance  of  ancient  friendship, 
while  I  remain,  dear  Theodore,  ever  your  faithful 
friend,  GEOK«;I:  UIPLET. 

Before  Parker's  controversial  period  began 
his  friend  had  left  the  ministry.  At  the  time 
of  their  first  acquaintance  the  future  heresiarch 
\vas  unsuspected.  He  was  writing  diligently  in 
"  The  Examiner  "  about  Cudwortb,  Sir  Thomas 
More,  St.  Bernard,  Olshausen,  Gesenius,  Du 
Cange,  Matter's  "  Gnosticism,"  and  other 
saintly  or  scholastic  matters.  A  literary  no 
tice  of  works,  then  recently  published  in  Ger 
many  (May,  1839),  reports  a  third  edition  of 


MINISTRY.  61 

Stranss's  "  Leben  Jesu,"  also  an  essay  by  Strauss 
on  the  "  Transient  and  Permanent  in  Christian 
ity,"  printed  in  a  periodical  called  the  "  Frei- 
hafen."  Parker's  article  on  Strauss  in  "  The 
Examiner"  for  July,  1840,  is  unnecessarily 
conservative.  Stranss's  method  is  turned  to 
ridicule  by  being  applied  to  the  history  of 
American  Independence.  "  The  Examiner  "  for 
January,  1839,  contains  a  paper  by  Parker  on 
Ackerman's  "  Christliche  in  Plato,"  the  tone  of 
which  is  not  merely  conservative  but  highly 
eulogistic  of  the  peculiar  excellences  of  the 
Christian  religion. 

During  this  period  Ripley  was  doing  his  best 
to  make  his  own  ministry  effective,  by  promot 
ing  interest  among  the  members  of  his  society 
in  each  other,  in  the  Unitarian  cause,  in  gen 
eral  charity.  But  all  efforts  were  vain  ;  noth 
ing  succeeded.  The  situation  of  the  meeting 
house  was  unfortunate  ;  the  neighborhood  de 
teriorated  ;  money  fell  short ;  the  minister  had 
misgivings  in  regard  to  his  fitness  for  profes 
sional  work.  The  correspondence  printed  below 
explains  the  situation,  and  prepares  for  the  next 
step  in  a  new  career. 

NORTHAMPTON,  May  21,  1840. 

MY  RESPECTED  FRIENDS,  —  I  learn  with  regret 
that  the  pecuniary  affairs  of  the  church  are  not  in  a 
prosperous  condition.  I  also  understand  that  the 


62  GEORGE  RIPLEY. 

means  of  providing  funds  to  meet  the  expenses  is 
now  the  subject  of  discussion. 

Under  these  circumstances  I  feel  that  it  is  due  hoth 
to  you  and  myself,  to  express  my  own  views  with  the 
perfect  frankness  which  has  always  marked  our  in 
tercourse. 

Our  connection  was  formed  in  the  beginning  with 
a  full  view  of  the  difficulties  which  it  involved  ;  the 
most  sanguine  friends  of  the  church  were  not  con 
fident  of  success  ;  and  on  the  whole  I  do  not  know 
that  our  prosperity  lias  been  less  than  we  had  reason 
to  anticipate.  There  have  always,  however,  been 
many  discouragements;  and  at  times  these  have  been 
so  great,  that  nothing  but  a  sense  of  the  kindness  I 
have  received  at  your  hands,  and  the  conviction  that 
my  best  endeavors  were  due  to  you  so  long  as  they 
were  desired,  has  prevented  me  from  requesting  to  be 
discharged  from  your  service. 

I  cannot  then  avoid  deeming  this  the  proper  occa 
sion  to  say  that  if  the  support  of  my  office  should  be 
thought  burdensome  or  inexpedient  in  the  deliberate 
judgment  of  your  body  and  the  society  which  you 
represent,  it  would  be  my  desire  to  relinquish  it.  If 
your  interests  can  be  better  promoted  by  other  hands, 
I  wish  that  they  may  assume  that  trust.  I  have  now 
labored  with  you  for  nearly  fourteen  years  ;  I  have 
done  what  I  could  to  accomplish  the  purposes  of  our 
connection  ;  and  under  the  present  relation  it  is  not 
likely  that  my  ministry  can  be  essentially  different 
from  what  it  has  been  ;  I  do  not  feel  that  I  can  do 
more  in  the  time  to  come  than  I  have  done  in  the 
time  past. 


MINISTRY.  63 

With  these  convictions,  I  am  bound  to  give  you 
the  option  of  preserving  the  present  connection.  It 
must  he  a  matter  of  free  will  and  of  good  will  on 
both  sides,  or  it  can  be  productive  of  no  pleasant 
fruits.  I  beg,  therefore,  that  you  will  discuss  the 
subject  as  far  as  you  shall  deem  it  necessary,  with  the 
same  freedom  as  if  the  question  were  now  to  be  taken 
on  my  settlement  for  the  first  time. 

In  making  this  communication,  I  trust  too  much  to 
your  candor  to  suppose  that  it  will  be  ascribed  to  a 
weariness  with  my  duties  or  a  want  of  attachment 
to  my  society.  I  wish  to  consult  the  common  good, 
without  peculiar  reference  to  myself.  On  former 
occasions  I  have  felt  bound  to  you  by  ties  which  I 
could  not  prevail  on  myself  to  break.  This  same 
feeling  remains  on  my  part ;  but  I  shall  cheerfully 
adopt  a  different  course  if  I  were  persuaded  that  it 
would  meet  your  wishes  or  be  for  your  advantage  ; 
and  in  whatever  sphere  I  might  be  placed,  I  should 
not  cease  to  rejoice  in  your  welfare  and  to  be  grate 
ful  for  your  friendship. 

With  sincere  regard,  I  am,  my  respected  friends, 
Your  faithful  and  affectionate  servant, 

GEO.  RIPLEY. 

MY  DEAR  FRIENDS,  —  You  were  informed  on  the 
last  Lord's  Day  that  I  should  take  this  opportunity 
to  present  to  you  a  communication  in  regard  to  the 
correspondence  which  was  held  in  the  month  of  May 
last,  between  the  proprietors  of  the  church  and  my 
self.  I  had  thought  that  this  course  was  due  to  you 


64  GEORGE  RIPLEY. 

on  account  of  your  personal  interest  in  the  subject, 
and  of  the  intrinsic  fitness  that  you  should  be  fully 
informed  of  everything  that  belongs  to  the  pastoral 
relation,  which  you  help  to  sustain.  It  is  those  who 
attend  upon  his  preaching  with  whom  the  minister 
has  the  most  intimate  concern  ;  he  knows  no  distinc 
tion  in  the  body  of  worshippers  between  proprietors 
and  others ;  but  the  moment  a  family  or  an  individ 
ual  becomes  a  part  of  his  congregation,  a  spiritual 
relation  is  established  between  him  and  their  souls. 
I  accordingly  address  this^  communication  to  you, 
with  the  assurance  that  you  will  listen  to  it  with 
the  same  candor  with  which  you  have  always  re 
ceived  the  frankest  disclosures  of  my  mind  from  this 
place. 

In  my  letter  to  the  proprietors  of  the  church,  in 
May,  I  made  use  of  the  following  language  :  "  If  the 
support  of  my  office  should  be  thought  burdensome 
or  inexpedient  in  the  deliberate  judgment  of  your 
body  and  the  society  which  you  represent,  it  would 
be  my  desire  to  relinquish  it.  If  your  interests  can 
be  better  promoted  by  other  hands,  I  wish  that  tlrey 
may  assume  the  trust.  I  have  now  labored  with  you 
for  nearly  fourteen  years  ;  I  have  done  what  I  could 
to  accomplish  the  purpose  of  our  connection,  and, 
under  the  present  relation,  it  is  not  likely  that  my 
ministry  can  be  essentially  different  from  what  it  has 
been.  I  do  not  feel  that  I  can  do  more  in  the  time 
to  come  than  I  have  in  the  time  past.  With  this  con 
viction,  I  am  bound  to  give  you  the  option  of  pre 
serving  our  present  connection.  It  must  be  a  matter 


MINISTRY. 

of  free-will  and  of  good-will  on  both 
be  productive  of  no  pleasant  fruits.  I  beg,  therefore, 
that  you  will  discuss  the  subject,  so  far  as  you  shall 
deem  it  necessary,  with  the  same  freedom  as  if  the 
question  were  now  to  be  taken  on  my  settlement  for 
the  first  time."  I  was  induced  to  make  this  state 
ment,  my  friends,  from  a  conviction  that  your  pros 
perity  as  a  society  could  not  be  greatly  increased  by 
my  labors,  under  the  arrangements  which  now  exist 
in  most  of  our  churches.  I  had  met  you  for  many 
years  from  Sunday  to  Sunday  ;  the  thoughts  arid 
feelings,  which  were  perhaps  new  to  many  of  you 
when  first  presented,  had  lost  much  of  their  fresh 
ness  ;  my  own  mind  had  ceased  to  take  a  deep  inter 
est  in  many  points  which  we  had  fully  considered 
with  each  other  ;  while  at  the  same  time  I  was  aware 
there  were  others  in  which  I  had  a  deep  concern, 
which  had  failed  to  attract  your  attention.  I  was 
called  upon,  notwithstanding,  to  address  nearly  the 
same  individuals,  to  pursue  the  same  track  on  which 
we  had  long  traveled  together,  to  use  great  diligence 
lest  I  should  depart  from  the  usual  sphere  of  the  pul 
pit,  and  touch  on  subjects  which,  by  the  general  con 
sent  of  our  churches,  are  banished  from  the  ordinary 
meeting  of  our  public  assemblies  on  the  Lord's  Day. 
Such  a  course  must  always  be  productive  of  depres 
sion  and  embarrassment.  Unless  a  minister  is  ex 
pected  to  speak  out  on  all  subjects  which  are  upper 
most  in  his  mind,  with  no  fear  of  incurring  the  charge 
of  heresy  or  compromising  the  interests  of  his  con 
gregation,  he  can  never  do  justice  to  himself,  to  his 


66  GEORGE  RIPLEY. 

people,  or  the  truth  which  he  is  bound  to  declare.  If 
it  is  virtually  understood  that  he  is  to  confine  himself 
to  a  certain  round  of  familiar  topics,  that  he  is  to  ab 
stain  from  what  are  called  exciting  subjects,  from  all 
points  on  which  his  hearers  may  be  presumed  greatly 
to  differ,  he  can  never  speak  with  the  earnestness  and 
life  which  become  the  messenger  who  bears  the  "\Vnrd 
of  God  on  his  lips.  I  was  fully  sensible  that  I  was 
suffering  from  this  influence  ;  that  I  had  not  strength 
to  resist  the  formality  and  coldness  which  are  breathed 
from  the  atmosphere  of  our  churches  ;  and  that,  un 
less  we  could  all  break  away  from  such  influences,  it 
was  wholly  in  vain  for  me  to  speak  any  longer  in  this 
pulpit,  Jl  was  my  wish,  therefore,  to  leave  you  per 
fectly  free  to  make  such  arrangements  as  would  con 
duce  to  your  highest  welfare.  I  thought  that  a 
change  in  the  administration  of  religion  here  would 
be  for  our  mutual  advantage.  I  did  not  feel  at  lib 
erty  to  propose  any  important  alterations  in  the  prin 
ciples  on  which  our  worship  was  conducted,  \vhile  at 
the  same  time  I  was  certain  that  without  some  change 
my  ministry  among  you  could  not  be  carried  on  with 
any  vital  power. 

I  will  confess,  also,  that  I  was  somewhat  influenced 
in  the  conclusion  at  which  I  had  arrived  by  the  pres 
ent  aspect  of  the  times.  This  is  very  different  from 
what  it  was  when  I  became  your  minister.  In  1826 
the  Unitarian  controversy  was  in  the  ascendant.  It 
excited  general  interest ;  questions  of  dogmatic  the 
ology  were  in  every  one's  mouth ;  and  a  popular  ex 
position  of  the  arguments  from  reason  and  Scripture 


MINISTRY.  67 

in  favor  of  liberal  views  always  commanded  general 
attention.  At  the  same  time,  inquiries  relating  to 
personal  religion  were  not  infrequent ;  many  were 
aroused  from  the  slumber  of  worldliness  and  sin  ;  for 
the  first  time,  religion  became  a  subject  of  vast  and 
solemn  import  to  their  souls;  and  the  plainest  and 
most  elementary  instruction  on  the  duties  of  the 
Christian  life  were  everywhere  welcome.  That  was 
a  good  state  of  things.  It  promised  well  for  the  fut 
ure.  It  awakened  the  brightest  hopes  in  regard  to 
the  practical  influence  of  religion  in  the  community; 
to  the  spread  of  the  pure,  disinterested,  and  lovely 
spirit  of  charity  in  the  various  relations  of  society ; 
to  the  visible  exhibition  of  freedom  and  holiness  in 
the  lives  of  those  who  had  been  born  from  above, 
and  who  seemed  to  share  largely  in  the  divine  power 
of  the  truths  which  they  had  embraced.  But  this 
state  of  things  it  seems  could  not  last  forever.  It 
passed  away,  and  a  new  order  of  ideas  was  brought 
forward.  The  essential  principles  of  liberal  Chris 
tianity,  as  I  had  always  understood  them,  made  re 
ligion  to  consist,  not  in  any  speculative  doctrine,  but 
in  a  divine  life.  They  asserted  the  unlimited  free 
dom  of  the  human  mind,  and  not  only  the  right,  but 
the  duty  of  private  judgment.  They  established  the 
kingdom  of  God,  not  in  the  dead  past,  but  in  the 
living  present;  gave  the  spirit  a  supremacy  over  the 
letter;  insisted  on  the  necessity  of  pointing  out  the 
corruptions  of  the  church,  of  sweeping  away  the 
traditions  which  obscured  the  simplicity  of  truth, 
and  urged  every  soul  to  press  on  to  the  highest  at> 


68  GEORGE  RIPLEY. 

tainment ;  to  forget  what  was  behind,  and  never  to 
be  kept  back  from  expressing  its  convictions  by  the 
voice  of  authority  or  the  fear  of  man.  A  portion 
of  the  liberal  clergy  felt  it  their  duty  to  carry  out 
these  views ;  to  be  faithful  to  their  principles  ;  not  to 
shrink  from  their  application,  but  to  exercise  the  free- 
.dom  which  God  gave  them  in  the  investigation  of 
truth  and  the  enforcement  of  its  practical  results. 
They  could  not  linger  around  the  grave  of  the  pa>t. 
The  experiences  of  manhood  enlarged  the  conception 
of  their  pupilage.  They  had  been  taught  that  no 
system  of  divinity  monopolized  the  truth,  and  they 
were  no  more  willing  to  be  bound  by  the  prevailing 
creed  of  Boston  or  Cambridge,  than  their  fathers  had 
been  by  the  prescription  of  Rome  or  Geneva.  But 
in  these  conclusions  they  were  divided  from  some  of 
their  brethren.  It  was  thought  dangerous  to  con 
tinue  the  progress  which  had  been  commenced.  Lib 
eral  churches  began  to  fear  liberality,  and  the  most 
heretical  sect  in  Christendom  to  bring  the  charge  of 
being  so  against  those  who  carried  out  its  own  princi 
ples.  They  who  defended  the  progress  as  well  as 
the  freedom  of  thought  were  openly  denounced  as 
infidels  ;  various  unintelligible  names  were  applied 
to  them  ;  and,  instead  of  judging  the  tree  by  its 
fruits,  and  acknowledging  the  name  of  Christian  to 
all  who  possessed  Christ's  spirit  and  claimed  to  have 
received  his  revelation,  men  appealed  to  the  prejudices 
of  the  multitude,  and  sought  to  destroy  the  religious 
influence  of  their  brethren,  on  account  of  the  specu 
lative  opinions  which  they  sincerely  believed  to  b« 


MINISTRY.  69 

true  and  Christian.  Now  it  was  with  this  latter  class 
that  I  always  found  myself.  I  had  a  native  aversion 
to  human  authority  for  the  soul ;  truth  seemed  to  me 
to  be  supernatural,  and  our  own  perception  limited. 
I  could  not  stand  still ;  I  had  faith  in  man  and  in 
God,  and  never  felt  the  slightest  alarm  lest  the  light 
from  above  should  lead  into  paths  of  danger.  But  I 
soon  found  that  this  spirit  could  not  pass  without  re 
buke.  The  plainest  expositions  of  Christian  truth, 
as  it  seemed  to  me,  were  accused  of  heresy.  Every 
idea  which  did  not  coincide  with  prevailing  opinions, 
and  many  which  had  heretofore  always  been  received 
by  liberal  clmrches,  were  considered  hostile  to  church 
and  state,  were  spoken  of  under  various  appellations 
which  no  man  understood,  and  this  caused  the  unin 
itiated  to  fear  and  the  good  to  grieve. 

Under  these  circumstances,  my  friends,  I  was  un 
willing  that  you  should  be  forced  to  share  in  the 
odium  which  might  attach  to  the  heresies  of  your 
minister.  I  knew  that  subjects  of  philosophical  in 
quiry  could  scarce  be  made  interesting  or  even  intel 
ligible  to  a  popular  audience  ;  that  the  pulpit  was  no 
place  for  them  ;  and  hence,  though  I  have  always 
stated  with  as  much  distinctness  as  I  could  the  re 
sults  of  my  investigation  that  related  to  religion,  you 
will  bear  me  witness  that  I  have  not  often  brought 
abstract  questions  before  you ;  that  I  have  spared  you 
the  class  of  subjects  that  belong  to  the  student  rather 
than  to  the  practical  church,  and  which  have  no  bear 
ing  on  the  imprint  of  the  character,  or  the  regener 
ation  of  the  soul.  For  this  reason,  I  felt  that  you 


70  GEORGE  RIPLEY. 

were  entitled  to  the  perfect  freedom  of  judging 
whether  any  reputed  heresies  had  impaired  the  influ 
ence  of  my  preaching  ;  and  that,  if  you  suffered  from 
the  effect  of  any  change,  of  which  I  was  unconscious 
myself,  you  might  have  an  opportunity  to  declare  it. 
I  knew  that  my  own  opinion  was  the  same  as  when 
I  entered  the  ministry  ;  the  views  which  I  cheri-lx-  I 
of  the  Scriptures,  of  Jesus  Christ,  of  the  nature  of 
man,  of  the  character  of  religion,  of  the  condition  of 
society,  were  identical  with  those  which  I  have  ever 
maintained  since  I  began  to  think  for  myself;  but 
the  experience  of  several  years  has  no  doubt  enlarged 
and  confirmed  them,  given  them  a  deeper  hold  on  my 
mind,  led  me  to  perceive  their  importance  more  in 
tensely,  shown  me  the  practical  conclusions  which  a 
sound  logic  draws  from  them,  has  made  me  more  and 
more  desirous  to  communicate  them  to  others,  and 
to  insist  on  their  application  to  social  reform  and  the 
advancement  of  the  age.  If  these  facts  had  influ 
enced  the  general  tone  of  my  preaching,  made  me  a 
different  man  from  what  I  was  when  you  first  knew 
me,  or  in  any  respects  estranged  me  from  your  sym 
pathies,  I  knew  that  our  further  connection  would  bo 
of  no  utility,  and  that  justice  and  candor  alike  de 
manded  an  opportunity  for  explanation.  I  wanted 
you  to  understand  me  precisely  as  I  am,  to  know  the 
interest  I  felt  in  the  movements  of  the  day,  which  are 
met  by  some  with  frowns  and  by  others  with  ridicule, 
and  by  all  perhaps  with  something  of  that  undefined 
fear,  which  any  new  expression  of  thought  is  apt  to 
excite  in  minds  that  have  no  sense  of  the  conflicts  by 
•vhirh  truth  is  ever  won. 


MINISTRY.  71 

There  is  still  another  circumstance  which  had  no 
Email  weight  in  leading  me  to  the  decision  which  I 
announced.  I  felt  that  though  in  many  respects  I 
could  rejoice  in  the  fruit  of  my  labors,  though  you 
bore  every  external  mark  of  being  a  prosperous  and 
flourishing  society,  though  my  words  had  not  fallen 
actually  on  the  ground,  but  had  found  access  to  the 
hearts  of  some  among  you,  yet  I  had  failed  in  pro 
ducing  the  effects,  which,  it  appears  to  me,  are  the 
best  results  of  the  ministry,  and  without  which,  no 
minister  can  feel  that  he  fills  a  noble  or  a  manly 
sphere.  I  have  always  endeavored  to  awaken  and 
cherish  a  spirit  of  mental  independence,  a  love  of  re 
ligious  progress,  a  desire  for  every  man  and  woman 
to  see  the  truth  with  their  own  eyes  and  not  anoth 
er's,  and  to  regard  the  worship  of  God  in  spirit  and  in 
truth  as  of  more  importance  than  any  external  com 
pliance.  I  have  had  no  wish  but  to  see  the  growth 
of  pure,  upright,  just,  generous,  and  aspiring  souls, 
as  the  fruit  of  my  labors.  Hence  you  will  know  that 
I  have  never  attempted  to  play  the  priest  in  your 
church  or  your  houses.  I  have  had  no  faith  in  the 
m6ck  solemnity  which  is  sometimes  assumed  for  ef 
fect.  I  have  been  as  unwilling  to  exercise  the  author 
ity  which  is  supposed  to  belong  to  the  clerical  profes 
sion,  as  to  permit  its  exercise  on  myself ;  my  whole 
soul  shrinks  from  it  either  way.  I  would  neither  be 
a  despot  nor  a  slave  ;  but  I  have  lived  with  you  as  a 
man  with  men,  as  a  friend,  a  brother,  an  equal,  dis 
claiming  any  means  of  influence  but  those  which  grow 
out  of  sincerity  of  purpose  and  the  faithful  exposition 


72  GEORGE  RIFLE  T. 

of  truth.  It  has  been  my  desire,  from  the  first  mo 
ment  of  our  connection  until  this § time,  to  lead  you  to 
think  for  yourselves.  I  have  endeavored  to  set  an 
example  of  this  in  my  own  character.  I  have  al 
ways  maintained  that  whatever  else  a  minister  might 
do  for  his  people  he  could  not  make  his  own  thought, 
or  prayer,  or  good  life,  a  substitute  for  theirs  ;  they 
must  take  the  task  into  their  own  hands,  and  work 
out  their  own  salvation  with  fear  and  trembling. 
Hence,  1  have  been  content  with  the  distinct  exhibi 
tion  of  truth  ;  popular  excitement  has  never  been  my 
aim.  I  have  felt  that  I  have  done  all  I  could  do 
when  I  had  presented  a  subject  in  its  various  bear 
ings  to  the  intelligence  and  higher  sentiments  of  my 
hearers.  This  course,  I  am  aware,  has  not  met  with 
the  approbation  of  all.  A  more  authoritative  and 
zealous  mode  of  preaching  has  been  desired  by  some 
individuals  ;  they  would  have  the  days  of  the  old 
priesthood  restored,  when  the  clergyman  trusted 
more  to  his  office  than  to  his  words,  and  advanced 
his  opinions  as  oracles  to  be  submitted  to  rather  than 
as  suggestions  to  be  weighed  and  considered.  I  am 
not  sure  but  that  they  are  right  in  their  views.  It 
may  be  the  case  that  the  pulpit  does  depend  for  its 
efficacy  on  its  elevation  above  the  common  herd ; 
that  men  cannot  be  addressed  from  it  as  equals  or 
friends  ;  that  something  more  than  simplicity,  ear 
nestness,  and  good  sense,  are  required  to  act  upon 
our  congregation  ;  and  that  it  is  in  vain  to  trust  to 
natural  feeling  without  artificial  excitement.  But  if 
this  be  the  fact,  I  can  only  say  that  I  deeply  regret 


MINISTRY.  73 

it.  If  it  be  an  objection  that  a  man  speaks  in  the 
pulpit,  as  men  speak  anywhere  else,  on  subjects  that 
deeply  interest  them,  the  true  man  will  soon  find  that 
he  can  speak  more  to  the  purpose  in  some  other 
place.  It  has  moreover  always  been  one  of  my  firm 
est  convictions,  that  we  meet  in  the  church  on  the 
broadest  ground  of  spiritual  equality.  The  true  fol 
lowers  of  Jesus  are  a  band  of  brothers  ;  they  compose 
one  family  ;  they  attach  no  importance  whatever  to 
the  petty  distinctions  of  birth,  rank,  wealth,  and  sta 
tion  ;  but  feeling  that  they  are  one  in  the  pursuit  of 
truth,  in  the  love  of  holiness,  and  in  the  hope  of  im 
mortal  life,  they  regard  the  common  differences  of  the 
world,  by  which  men  are  separated  from  each  other, 
as  lighter  than  the  dust  of  the  balance.  They  look 
on  each  other  with  mutual  respect  and  honor ;  they 
have  no  struggle  for  preeminence  ;  they  have  no  de 
sire  for  the  chief  seats  in  the  synagogue,  nor  greet 
ings  in  the  markets  and  the  streets  ;  and  the  poor 
widow,  who  leaves  the  daily  toil  by  which  a  suffer 
ing  family  is  kept  from  want,  to  gather  with  the  faith 
ful  in  the  house  of  worship,  is  welcomed  with  as  warm 
a  sympathy,  and  regarded  with  as  sincere  affection, 
and  treated  with  just  as  much  respect,  as  they  who 
are  arrayed  in  costly  robes,  and  who  come  from  the 
heights  of  office  or  the  abodes  of  luxury,  to  look  up 
to  the  common  Father,  in  whose  sight  a  pure  heart 
and  clean  hands  are  alone  of  value.  These  ideas  I 
have  perhaps  insisted  on  more  strongly  than  any 
others,  for  they  have  been  near  my  heart ;  they  are 
a  part  of  my  life  ;  they  seem  to  me  to  be  the  very 


74  GEORGE  RIP  LEY. 

essence  of  the  religion  which  I  was  taught.  The 
great  fact  of  human  equality  before  God  is  not  one 
to  let  the  heart  remain  cold  ;  it  is  not  a  mere  specu 
lative  abstraction  ;  it  is  something  more  than  a  watch 
word  for  a  political  party  to  gain  power  with,  and 
then  do  nothing  to  carry  it  into  practical  operation  ; 
it  is  a  deep,  solemn,  vital  truth,  written  by  the  Al 
mighty  in  the  laws  of  our  being,  announced  witli  ter 
rible  distinctness  to  the  oppressor  by  his  beloved  Son, 
and  pleaded  for  by  all  that  is  just  and  noble  in  the 
promptings  of  our  nature.  Blame  me  for  it  if  you 
will,  but  I  cannot  behold  the  degradation,  the  igno 
rance,  the  poverty,  the  vice,  the  ruin  of  the  soul, 
which  is  everywhere  displayed  in  the  very  bosom  of 
Christian  society  in  our  own  city,  while  men  look  idly 
on,  without  a  shudder.  I  cannot  witness  the  glaring 
inequalities  of  condition,  the  hollow  pretension  of 
pride,  the  scornful  apathy  with  which  many  urge  the 
prostration  of  man,  the  burning  zeal  with  which  they 
run  the  race  of  selfish  competition,  with  no  thought 
for  the  elevation  of  their  brethren,  without  the  sad 
conviction  that  the  spirit  of  Christ  has  well-nigh  dis 
appeared  from  our  churches,  and  that  the  fearful 
doom,  awaits  us,  "  Inasmuch  as  ye  have  not  done  it 
unto  one  of  the  least  of  these,  ye  have  not  done  it 
unto  me." 

But  with  these  feelings,  I  fear,  I  have  had  little 
sympathy.  They  have  not  been  understood.  They 
have  been  regarded  as  bearing  on  political  struggles, 
or  having  reference  to  party  strife  ;  and  this  earnest 
defense  in  public  and  in  private  has  been  construed 


MINISTRY.  75 

into  a  zeal  for  questions  with  which  I  have  had  no 
concern,  and  connected  me  with  movements  from 
wliich  I  have  always  stood  aloof.  The  defense  of 
humanity  is  sometimes  considered  an  attack  on  soci 
ety  ;  a  sense  of  the  evil  of  prevalent  systems  a  reflec 
tion  on  the  character  of  the  men  who  sustain  them ; 
and  the  ardent  desire  to  see  every  one  aid  in  the  dig 
nity  of  an  immortal  soul,  sharing  all  the  benefits 
which  circumstances  permit,  be  possessed  of  the 
means  of  the  highest  spiritual  culture,  and  not  des 
titute  of  any  of  the  many  comforts  of  life,  is  con 
founded  with  the  measure  of  the  politician  or  the  in 
trigue  of  the  demagogue.  In  common  with  many 
others,  I  know  that  I  have  been  misunderstood  in 
this  matter.  I  make  no  account  of  this  fact  in  refer 
ence  to  myself ;  but  when  a  minister  of  the  gospel 
cannot  show  by  his  life  and  conduct,  by  his  word  and 
his  works,  that  he  is  hostile  to  all  oppression  of  man 
by  man,  that  he  values  moral  worth  more  than  out 
ward  condition,  that  he  regards  the  indulgence  of 
pride  as  a  sin  against  the  Holy  Ghost,  and  that  all 
his  sympathies  are  with  the  down-trodden  and  suffer 
ing  poor,  without  impairing  the  influence  of  his  la 
bors,  I  feel  that  it  is  time  to  look  at  the  foundation 
on  which  we  stand,  and  see  if  it  does  not  suffer  from 
some  defect  which  threatens  its  destruction. 

With  such  convictions,  my  friends,  I  addressed  to 
the  proprietors  of  the  church  the  letter  which  has 
led  to  the  present  communication.  I  was  persuaded 
that  we  must  sooner  or  later  come  to  a  fair  under 
standing  with  each  other.  I  was  aware  that  there 


76  GEORGE  RIP  LET. 

were  certain  views  on  which  we  did  not  probably  co 
incide  ;  and  believing  that  no  church,  under  our  pres 
ent  arrangements,  admitted  that  perfect  liberty  of 
thought  and  expression  which  I  must  ever  prize  as  a 
part  of  the  human  birthright,  and  which  is  essential 
to  all  noble  and  effective  utterance,  if  I  had  felt  my 
self  at  liberty  so  to  do,  I  should  have  asked  at  once 
to  be  discharged  from  your  service.  But  this  liberty 
I  did  not  feel.  I  have  considered  myself  bound  by 
no  common  ties  to  this  society.  I  came  here  in  the 
inexperience  of  early  youth,  called  from  the  retire 
ment  and  ignorance  of  a  literary  life,  to  form  a  new 
congregation,  with  no  external  aid  in  my  favor,  but 
with  many  discouraging  circumstances  to  contend 
with,  and  often  made  to  perceive  that  the  responsi 
bilities  of  the  station  were  greater  than  I  could  easily 
sustain.  Nothing  could  have  sustained  me  but  a  firm 
reliance  on  God,  and  the  undeviating  kindness  and 
friendship  which  I  have  enjoyed,  with  scarce  an  ex 
ception,  from  every  individual  who  has  shared  in  my 
ministry.  As  minister  and  society  we  have  grown 
up  together ;  we  have  neither  of  us  known  any  other 
pastoral  relation,  and  have  stood  by  each  other.  I 
have  surely  spared  no  pains  to  do  you  whatever  good 
was  in  my  power ;  and  I  rejoice  to  testify  here  in  this 
place  that  you  have  ever  been  faithful  and  true  to 
me ;  and  that  I  would  not  accept  the  ministry  over 
any  congregation  I  am  acquainted  with,  in  exchange 
for  that  which  I  now  bear.  The  friendships  which  I 
have  formed  with  many  of  you  are  such  as  few  en 
joy  ;  the  intimate  acquaintance  which  I  have  shared 


MINISTRY.  77 

with  all  who  permitted  me  this  privilege  has  been  a 
source  of  the  richest  satisfaction.  I  have  never  en 
tered  your  doors  without  being  welcomed  with  ex 
pressions  of  regard.  Your  familiar  intercourse  with 
my  household,  in  days  of  gladness  and  of  grief,  I 
have  deemed  one  of  my  brightest  honors  ;  while  the 
remembrance  of  those  with  whom  I  have  gone  down 
to  the  dark  valley,  whose  children,  parents,  and  the 
companions  of  their  life  I  now  speak  to,  seem  to 
entwine  a  new  cord  around  my  heart,  and  to  stay 
my  lingering  steps,  as  their  benignant  faces  still 
hover  in  our  season  of  worship,  and  the  green  sods 
have  not  yet  faded  upon  their  graves. 

It  seemed  to  me,  accordingly,  that  I  was  bound  to 
take  the  course  which  I  had  decided  on  ;  to  leave 
you  the  freedom  of  releasing  me  if  you  chose  to  do 
so ;  that  I  could  not  retire  from  the  post  where  you 
had  placed  me,  until  I  saw  clearly  that  such  a  step 
would  be  without  injury  to  you  or  dishonor  to  myself. 

The  letter  which  was  addressed  to  me  by  the  pro 
prietors,  by  whom  you  are  represented,  was  of  a  char 
acter  to  call  for  my  distinct  and  grateful  acknowledg 
ments.  To  say  that  I  received  it  without  a  sense  of 
the  kindness  and  esteem  by  which  it  was  dictated, 
would  indicate  an  insensibility  which  I  do  not  claim 
to  possess.  In  that  letter  the  following  language  is 
employed,  in  reply  to  the  communication  which  I  had 
made  :  "  We  hope  that  you  will  consent  to  continue 
as  our  pastor,  and  that  we  may  receive  from  your 
official  character  those  lessons  of  instruction  which 
we  value,  and  in  our  social  relations  those  marks  of 


78  GEORGE  RIPLET. 

kind  regard  and  consolation  in  private  affliction  which 
you  are  so  eminently  adapted  to  give,  and  which  al 
ways  have  been  so  given  as  to  require  our  utmost 
thanks.  We  beg  leave  to  assure  you  that  we  think 
the  continuance  of  the  society  in  Purchase  Street 
mainly  depends  on  your  continuance  as  pastor,  and 
that,  should  you  leave,  a  considerable  portion  of  those 
who  have  longest  been  with  you,  and  who  have  a 
strong  attachment  to  your  character,  would  also  leave  ; 
and  should  these  events  take  place,  we  do  not  now 
perceive  how  the  remainder  of  the  society  could,  with 
out  any  considerable  accession  of  numbers,  grant  that 
support  to  a  pastor  which  duty  and  justice  would 
seem  to  require  of  them.  In  closing  this  communi 
cation,  we  are  sure  that  we  should  do  our  constitu 
ents  great  injustice,  did  we  not  assure  you  of  their 
great  personal  regard,  and  that  our  own  regard  is  no 
less  ardent.  We  therefore  hope  and  trust  that  you 
may  be  listened  to  in  future  with  the  same  pleasure 
and  interest  with  which  you  were  heard  in  the  com 
mencement  of  your  ministry." 

The  views  thus  expressed,  my  friends,  were  con 
firmed  in  full  and  free  conversations  which  I  sought 
for  with  the  individual  members  of  your  committee. 
Their  statements,  as  you  will  perceive,  present  the 
subject  in  a  somewhat  different  aspect  from  that  in 
which  I  had  considered  it,  and  throw  upon  me  a  re 
sponsibility  which  I  should  be  reluctant  to  assume. 
They  seem  to  furnish  the  same  reasons  in  a  stronger 
light  for  my  remaining  as  your  pastor,  which  had  be 
fore  prevented  me  from  asking  you  for  a  di-charge 


MINISTRY.  79 

They  place  me  in  a  condition  in  which  I  could  not 
withdraw  from  your  service  without  appearing  negli 
gent  of  your  wishes  and  regardless  of  your  welfare. 
At  the  same  time,  they  do  riot  convince  me  that  the 
permanent  continuance  of  my  ministry  with  you 
would  insure  even  your  external  prosperity  as  a  soci 
ety.  I  am  still  of  the  opinion  that  the  service  which 
is  desired  could  be  more  effectually  performed  by 
other  hands  than  mine.  I  am  unwilling,  however,  to 
break  from  you  abruptly,  to  leave  you  in  a  state 
which  might  terminate  in  the  slightest  injury,  or  to 
neglect  the  opportunity  of  giving  a  fair  trial  to  the 
success  of  my  ministry,  under  the  conditions  which  I 
shall  state.  I  accordingly  consent  to  comply  with  the 
suggestions  in  the  letter  of  your  committee,  and  to 
continue  the  pastoral  relation  with  the  distinct  under 
standing  that  it  shall  be  for  a  limited  period.  If  at 
the  expiration  of  one  year  from  this  time,  or  at  any 
earlier  date,  it  should  seem  that  the  obstacles  to  my 
removal  have  ceased  to  exist,  I  shall  then  respectfully 
solicit  you  to  accept  the  resignation  of  my  office,  and 
I  know  of  nothing  but  the  most  resistless  conviction 
that  the  contrary  course  would  be  my  duty,  that  is 
likely  to  change  this  determination.  Meantime,  I 
wish  to  renounce,  and  I  hereby  do  renounce,  all 
claims  upon  you  for  the  fulfillment  of  any  pecuniary 
contract,  as  I  shall  consent  to  receive  nothing  from 
the  funds  of  the  society  which  is  not  a  perfectly  vol 
untary  contribution  on  the  part  of  every  individual 
by  whom  it  is  paid. 

This  leads  me  to  speak  of  another  circumstance, 


80  GEORGE  RIPLET. 

which  must  always  embarrass  the  relations  between 
minister  and  people,  under  our  existing  arrangements. 
I  mean  the  inducement  for  the  owner  of  a  pew  to 
continue  a  member  of  a  religious  society  after  he  has 
lost  his  interest  in  the  worship.  No  spir'tual  rela 
tion  can  be  sincere  and  efficacious  which  does  not 
rest  on  the  most  perfect  freedom.  The  moment  you 
feel  obliged  to  attend  on  a  religious  service,  without 
any  inward  sympathy,  the  service  can  do  you  no 
good.  There  should  not  be  the  shade  of  a  restraint 
on  any  worshiper,  which  prevents  him  from  seeking 
such  influences  as  are  most  congenial  to  his  tastes, 
and  adapted  to  his  moral  and  intellectual  wants. 
The  minister  should  feel  that  the  persons  whom  he 
addresses  have  come  around  him  through  interest  in 
his  words,  and  whenever  that  interest  ceases  they 
should  be  able  to  depart  as  freely  as  they  came.  This 
would  greatly  increase  the  life  and  animation  of  our 
public  services.  The  speaker  would  have  nothing  to 
do  but  to  declare  the  word  which  pressed  for  utter 
ance,  and  in  the  manner  which  his  own  nature  best 
permitted ;  the  dread  of  injuring  a  hearer  would 
never  tempt  him  to  modify  his  thoughts ;  for  no  man 
who  heard  what  was  without  interest  for  him  would 
be  forced  to  come  a  second  time.  The  freedom  of 
the  speaker  and  the  freedom  of  the  hearer,  which 
are  each  equally  important,  would  thus  be  secured  j 
no  man  would  suffer  in  his  property  from  the  convic 
tions  of  the  preacher  ;  misunderstandings  would  be 
less  frequent ;  and  the  ties  which  bound  the  society 
together  would  be  of  a  purer  and  stronger  character 


MINISTRY.  81 

than  those  which  now  exist.  At  present,  in  all  our 
churches,  many  are  retained  by  their  property  in  the 
house,  not  by  their  interest  in  the  preacher.  They 
have  heard  all  he  has  to  say,  and  it  is  certainly  just 
that  they  should  have  no  temptation  to  continue 
when  they  are  not  edified. 

For  my  own  part,  I  have  long  been  persuaded  that 
we  should  offer  a  more  spiritual  worship,  enjoy  a 
more  sincere  communion  with  each  other,  and  find 
our  Sabbath  services  far  more  attractive  and  fruitful, 
were  all  such  restrictions  removed,  even  if  we  came 
together  as  the  disciples  did,  in  a  large  upper  room, 
in  a  fisher's  boat,  or  by  the  shore  of  the  sea.  The 
minister  should  take  his  stand  where  he  can  freely 
speak  out  all  that  is  in  his  soul.  He  would  be  joined 
by  those  who  find  that  he  addresses  a  powerful  and 
living  word  to  their  hearts,  who  are  helped  by  him  in 
their  endeavors  after  a  just  and  truthful  life,  and  are 
drawn  by  a  spiritual  affinity  with  the  message  he  de 
clares,  and  who  are  too  desirous  that  the  truth  of 
God  should  prevail  to  think  of  its  external,  tempo 
rary  effects.  Such  an  assembly  would  constitute  the 
true  church  of  the  first-born.  It  would  consist  of 
those  who  are  united  by  no  other  tie  than  faith  in 
divine  things  ;  by  the  desire  to  cultivate  the  holiest 
principles  of  our  nature,  —  reverence,  justice,  and 
love  ;  to  ascertain  and  follow  the  laws  of  Providence 
in  the  constitution  of  the  inner  spirit  and  of  the  out 
ward  world ;  and  to  convert  the  jarring  elements  of 
earth  into  materials  for  a  pure,  serene,  and  joyful  life. 

The  basis  of  worship  in  such  a  church  would  be 
6 


82  GEORGE  RIPLET. 

feeling,  not  speculation  ;  the  platform  would  be  broad 
enough  to  welcome  every  seeking  spirit,  in  whatever 
stage  of  its  progress  it  might  be  ;  all  should  be  en 
couraged,  none  should  be  excluded  ;  and  especially 
they  who  are  yet  feeling  after  God,  if  haply  they 
may  find  him,  should  be  taken  by  the  hand,  not 
driven  from  the  fold.  This  would  leave  the  investi 
gation  of  truth  entirely  free.  The  sincerest  convic 
tions  could  be  uttered  without  dread  or  misgiving. 
We  should  meet,  not  as  having  attained,  l>ut  as  learn 
ers  ;  of  course,  every  ray  of  light  would  be  sought, 
not  shunned  ;  we  should  let  the  dead  past  bury  its 
dead  ;  we  should  look  on  life  and  truth  with  young 
eyes;  and  thus  seeking  to  be  as  little  children,  we 
should  enter  the  Kingdom  of  God,  and  we  should 
know  where  we  were  by  the  divine  peace  and  joy  with 
which  our  hearts  would  overflow.  In  such  a  church 
there  could  be  no  cold  or  formal  preaching.  The  in 
struction  would  be  the  overflowing  of  an  individual 
soul ;  there  would  be  no  aim  at  effect.  The  topics  of 
discourse  would  be  taken  from  the  experience  of  life ; 
they  would  embrace  the  widest  range  of  thought,  and 
the  more  exciting  and  Soul-stirring  the  better.  The 
infinite  Bible  of  the  Universe  would  be  the  text-book, 
and  whatever  the  soul  feels  or  forbodes,  the  commen 
tary. 

But  so  long  as  the  questions  which  relate  to  tho 
highest  truth  and  duty,  though  discussed  everywhere 
else,  are  virtually  excluded  from  the  pulpit ;  so  long 
as  the  minister  is  expected  to  adapt  himself  to  the 
state  of  the  times,  to  popular  opinion  and  prevailing 


lr:        \-*>x 

MINISTRY.  83 

Vv" 

prejudices;   so  long  as  he   is  valued  more\for  his 

plausible  and  obliging  spirit  than  for  his  fearless  re 
buke  of  sin  and  detection  of  error,  we  may  be  luHeti^l 
into  treacherous  slumber  by  the  services  of  the  church, 
but  they  can  never  accomplish  their  purpose  in  arous 
ing  the  guilty  from  their  sleep  of  death,  pouring  light 
over  the  darkened  mind,  and  advancing  the  reign  of 
truth,  justice,  and  love  over  the  kingdoms  of  men. 

This  idea  of  social  worship  can  be  carried  into  effect 
only  in  a  congregation  where  there  is  a  prevailing 
harmony  of  sentiment  between  the  people  and  the 
minister  ;  where  the  questions  which  most  interest 
his  mind  are  those  which  they  are  also  most  desirous 
to  hear  discussed  ;  where  the  arrangements  of  the  so 
ciety  allow  the  most  perfect  freedom  of  departure  to 
all  who  have  ceased  to  be  interested  in  the  views  that 
are  advanced.  Whenever  the  attention  of  the  min 
ister  is  strongly  drawn  to  subjects  which  are  not 
regarded  as  important  by  the  hearer,  the  free,  sympa 
thetic  chain  which  binds  heart  with  heart  is  disturbed, 
no  electric  spark  is  drawn  forth,  the  speaker  loses  his 
power,  and  the  people  are  not  moved. 

Now  this  is  precisely  the  position  which  one  por 
tion  of  our  community  holds  towards  another,  and,  in 
many  cases,  ministers  and  people  share  in  its  embar 
rassments.  If  a  minister  is  stationary  and  his  people 
are  for  progress,  there  is  an  interruption  of  sympa 
thy.  There  is  a  similar  interruption  if  a  people  is 
stationary,  while  the  minister  is  for  progress.  And 
the  same  is  true  with  regard  to  any  other  points  on 
which  the  community  is  divided. 


84  GEORGE  RIP  LET. 

The  attention  of  some  good  men  is  directed  chiefly 
to  individual  evils ;  they  wish  to  improve  private 
character  without  attacking  social  principles  which 
obstruct  all  improvement ;  while  the  attention  of  other 
good  men  is  directed  to  the  evils  of  society ;  they  think 
that  private  character  suffers  from  public  sins,  and 
.that,  as  we  are  placed  in  society  by  Providence,  the 
advancement  of  society  is  our  principal  duty.  With 
regard  to  these  questions  there  is  a  great  difference 
of  opinion.  They  compose  the  principal  subjects  of 
thought  at  the  present  day.  They  form  what  is  called 
the  exciting  questions  by  which  society  is  now  agi 
tated.  I  should  not  do  justice,  my  friends,  to  you  or 
myself,  if  I  were  to  close  this  communication  without 
noticing  the  ground  I  have  occupied  in  regard  to  those 
questions.  It  has  been  made,  as  you  are  aware,  the 
cause  of  some  reproach.  A  popular  cry  has  been 
started  by  many  individuals  against  the  advocates  of 
new  views  on  philosophy  and  the  condition  of  soci 
ety,  and,  in  common  with  many  others,  you  have 
heard  accusations  brought  against  principles  by  those 
who  have  failed  even  to  explain  the  meaning  of  the 
terms  by  which  they  were  denounced. 

There  is  a  class  of  persons  who  desire  a  reform  in 
the  prevailing  philosophy  of  the  day.  These  are 
called  Transcendentalists,  because  they  believe  in  an 
order  of  truths  which  transcends  the  sphere  of  the 
external  senses.  Their  leading  idea  is  the  supremacy 
of  mind  over  matter.  Hence  they  maintain  that  the 
truth  of  religion  does  not  depend  on  tradition,  nor 
historical  facts,  but  has  an  unerring  witness  in  the 


MINISTRY.  85 

soul.  There  is  a  light,  they  believe,  which  enlight- 
eneth  every  man  that  cometh  into  the  world  ;  there 
is  a  faculty  in  all  —  the  most  degraded,  the  most  ig 
norant,  the  most  obscure  —  to  perceive  spiritual  truth 
when  distinctly  presented ;  and  the  ultimate  appeal 
on  all  moral  questions  is  not  to  a  jury  of  scholars,  a 
hierarchy  of  divines,  or  the  prescriptions  of  a  creed, 
but  to  the  common  sense  of  the  human  race.  These 
views  I  have  always  adopted  ;  they  have  been  at  the 
foundation  of  my  preaching  from  the  first  time  that 
I  entered  the  pulpit  until  now.  The  experience  and 
reflection  of  nearly  twenty  years  have  done  much 
to  confirm,  nothing  to  shake,  them  ;  and  if  my  dis 
courses  in  this  house,  or  my  lectures  in  yonder  ves 
try,  have  in  any  instance  displayed  the  vitality  of 
truth,  impressed  on  a  single  heart  a  genuine  sense  of 
religion,  disclosed  to  you  a  new  prospect  of  the  re 
sources  of  your  own  nature,  made  you  feel  more 
deeply  your  responsibility  to  God,  cheered  you  in 
the  sublime  hope  of  immortality,  and  convinced  your 
reason  of  the  reality  and  worth  of  the  Christian  rev 
elation,  it  was  because  my  mind  has  been  trained  in 
the  principles  of  Transcendental  Philosophy,  —  a  phi 
losophy  which  is  now  taught  in  every  Protestant  uni 
versity  on  the  Continent  of  Europe,  which  is  the  com 
mon  creed  of  the  most  enlightened  nations,  and  the 
singular  misunderstanding  of  which  among  ourselves 
illustrates  more  forcibly,  I  am  ashamed  to  say,  the 
heedless  enterprise  than  the  literary  culture  of  our 
countrymen.  If  you  ask,  why  I  have  not  preached 
the  philosophy  in  the  pulpit,  I  answer  that  I  could  not 


86  GEORGE  RIPLEY. 

have  preached  without  it,  but  my  main  business  as  a 
minister,  I  conceive,  has  been,  not  to  preach  philoso 
phy  or  politics  or  medicine  or  mathematics,  but  the 
Gospel  of  Christ.  If  you  ask  whether  I  embrace 
every  unintelligible  production  of  the  mind  that  is 
quoted  from  mouth  to  mouth  as  Transcendentalism, 
I  answer,  that  if  any  man  writes  so  as  not  to  be  un 
derstood,  be  he  Transcendentalist  or  Materialist,  it  is 
his  own  fault,  not  another's;  for  my  own  part,  I 
agree  with  Paul,  "  that  I  had  rather  speak  five  words 
with  my  understanding,  that  by  my  voice  I  might 
teach  others  also,  than  ten  thousand  words  in  an  un 
known  tongue."  There  is  another  class  of  persons 
who  are  devoted  to  the  removal  of  the  abuses  that 
prevail  in  modern  society.  They  witness  the  oppres 
sions  that  are  done  under  the  sun,  and  they  cannot 
keep  silence.  They  have  faith  that  God  governs 
man  ;  they  believe  in  a  better  future  than  the  past. 
Their  daily  prayer  is  for  the  coming  of  the  kingdom 
of  righteousness,  truth,  and  love  ;  they  look  forward 
to  a  more  pure,  more  lovely,  more  divine  state  of  so 
ciety  than  ua>  ever  realized  on  earth.  With  these 
views,  I  rejoice  to  say,  I  strongly  and  entirely  sympa 
thize.  While  I  do  not  feel  it  my  duty  to  unite  with 
any  public  association  for  the  promotion  of  these 
ideas,  it  is  not  because  I  would  disavow  their  princi 
ples,  but  because  in  many  cases  the  cause  of  truth  is 
carried  forward  better  by  individual  testimony  than 
by  combined  action.  I  would  not  be  responsible  for 
the  measures  of  a  society  ;  I  would  have  no  society 
responsible  for  me ;  but  in  public  and  private,  by 


MINISTRY.  87 

word  and  by  deed,  by  persuasion  and  example,  I 
would  endeavor  to  help  the  progress  of  the  great 
principles  which  I  have  at  heart.  The  purpose  of 
Christianity,  as  I  firmly  believe,  is  to  redeem  society 
as  well  as  the  individual  from,  all  sin.  As  a  Chris 
tian,  then,  I  feel  bound  to  do  what  I  can  for  the  pro 
motion  of  universal  temperance,  to  persuade  men  to 
abandon  every  habit  which  is  at  war  witli  their  phys 
ical  welfare  and  their  moral  improvement,  and  to  pro 
duce,  by  appeals  to  the  reason  and  conscience,  that 
love  of  inward  order  which  is  beyond  the  reach  of 
legal  authority.  As  a  Christian,  I  would  aid  in  the 
overthrow  of  every  form  of  slavery  ;  I  would  free 
the  mind  from  bondage  and  the  body  from  chains  ;  I 
could  not  feel  that  my  duty  was  accomplished  while 
there  was  one  human  being,  within  the  sphere  of  my 
influence,  held  to  unrequited  labor  at  the  will  of  an 
other,  destitute  of  the  means  of  education,  or  doomed 
to  penury,  degradation,  and  vice  by  the  misfortune  of 
his  birth.  I  conceive  it  to  be  a  large  share  of  the 
minister's  duty  to  preach  the  gospel  to  the  poor,  to 
announce  glad  tidings  of  deliverance  to  all  that  are 
oppressed.  His  warmest  sympathies  should  be  with 
those  who  have  none  to  care  for  them  ;  he  should 
never  be  so  much  in  earnest  as  when  pleading  the 
cause  of  the  injured.  His  most  frequent  visits  will 
not  be  to  the  abodes  of  fashion  and  luxury,  but  to 
the  dwellings  where  not  many  of  the  wise  and  mighty 
of  this  world  are  apt  to  enter  ;  and  if  he  can  enjoy 
the  poor  man's  blessing,  whom  he  has  treated  like  an 
equal  and  a  brother  in  all  the  relations  of  life,  whose 


88  GEORGE  RIFLE  Y. 

humble  abode  he  has  cheered  by  the  expression  of 
honest  sympathy,  and  whose  hard  lot  draws  tears 
from  those  unused  to  sorrow,  he  will  count  it  a  richer 
reward  than  the  applause  o£  society  or  the  admiration 
of  listening  crowds.  There  is  another  cause  in  which 
I  feel  the  strongest  interest,  and  which  I  would  labor 
to  promote,  —  that  of  inward  peace  between  man  and 
man.  1  have  no  faith  whatever  in  the  efficacy  or  the 
lawfulness  of  public  or  private  wars.  If  they  have 
ever  been  necessary  in  the  progress  of  society,  as  I 
know  they  have  been  unavoidable,  it  was  owing  to 
the  prevalence  of  the  rude,  untamed  animal  passions 
of  man  over  the  higher  sentiments  of  his  nature.  It 
should  be  the  effort  of  every  true  man  to  abolish  them 
altogether ;  to  banish  the  principles  from  which  they 
proceed  ;  to  introduce  the  empire  of  justice  and  love  ; 
and  to  abstain  on  all  occasions  from  the  indulgence 
of  bitterness  or  wrath  in  his  own  conduct,  and  to 
offer  no  needless  provocation  for  its  indulgence  in 
others.  I  believe  in  the  omnipotence  of  kindness,  of 
moral  intrepidity,  of  divine  charity.  If  society  per 
formed  its  whole  duty,  the  dominion  of  force  would 
yield  to  the  prevalence  of  love,  our  prisons  would  be 
converted  into  moral  hospitals,  the  schoolmaster  would 
supersede  the  executioner,  violence  would  no  more  be 
heard  in  our  land,  nor  destruction  in  our  borders. 
Our  walls  would  be  salvation,  and  our  gates  praise. 

I  have  thus  laid  before  you,  my  friends,  what  I 
proposed  to  communicate  on  this  occasion.  I  have 
used  great  plainness  of  speech.  I  have  kept  nothing 
back.  I  have  omitted  no  topic  on  which  I  thought 


MINISTRY.  89 

light  or  explanation  was  demanded.  You  will  have 
no  further  occasion  to  inquire  from  others  what  I  be 
lieve  or  think,  as  you  have  received  as  explicit  dis 
closures  as  I  know  how  to  make  from  my  own  lips. 
If,  after  you  have  heard  the  statements  now  pre- 
'sented,  you  shall  arrive  at  different  conclusions  from 
those  contained  in  the  letter  of  your  committee  ;  if 
you  shall  think  that  another's  voice  can  be  heard  here 
with  greater  advantage  than  my  own  ;  if  you  shrink 
from  one  who  comes  before  you  laden  with  so  many 
heresies  ;  I  shall  claim  no  privilege  in  this  place.  I 
shall  consult  your  truest  interests  ever  ;  and  I  can 
not  believe  that  they  will  be  promoted  by  your  being 
compelled  to  listen  to  one  with  whom  you  feel  a  di 
minished  sympathy.  If,  on  the  other  hand,  you  do 
not  decline  my  services,  on  the  conditions  which  I 
have  stated,  it  will  be  my  earnest  endeavor  to  build 
yon  up  in  holiness,  in  freedom,  in  faith,  so  long  as  I 
stand  here.  But  I  can  never  be  a  different  man  from 
what  God  has  made  me.  I  must  always  speak  with 
frankness  the  word  that  comes  into  my  heart ;  and 
my  only  request  is  that  it  may  be  heard  with  the  same 
frankness  and  candor  with  which  it  is  uttered. 

One  word  more  and  I  will  stop.  The  correspond 
ence  which  has  taken  place  has  been  spoken  of  as 
the  sign  of  a  difficulty  between  the  people  and  minis 
ter  of  this  congregation.  This  is  not  the  case.  There 
is  no  difficulty,  no  misunderstanding,  in  that  relation. 
I  have  never  received  greater  proofs  of  confidence, 
attachment,  and  esteem,  than  during  this  discussion. 


90  GEORGE  RIFLE  Y. 

I  have  never  felt  greater  attachment  to  my  friends 
and  brothers  here  than  I  do  at  this  moment.  If  un 
called  for  words  have  ever  fallen  from  the  lips  of  any 
individual  or  from  my  own,  it  is  the  infirmity  of 
human  nature;  not,  I  am  sure,  the  fruit  of  deliber 
ate  unkindness;  and  as  I  hope  to  he  forgiven,  I  for 
give  everything.  Where  there  is  honor  and  justice 
and  the  fear  of  God  on  both  sides,  as  I  trust  there  is 
here,  there  is  seldom  any  need  of  the  slightest  diffi 
culty.  What  we  all  desire  is  the  best  interests  of  the 
society,  of  the  families  that  worship  here,  of  the  souls 
that  look  to  this  place  for  immortal  food.  We  have 
been  together  too  long  ;  we  have  known  eacli  other 
too  well ;  we  have  stood  too  often  by  each  other's 
side  in  scenes  of  joy  and  in  the  hour  of  grief,  for  any 
unworthy  emotion  to  be  cherished  long  in  our  breasts. 
I  look  on  these  walls  with  inexpressible  interest ; 
every  seat  has  a  story  to  tell  of  the  past  which  we 
cannot  think  of  unmoved.  We  have  sat  in  heavenly 
places  here  with  those  who  are  now  in  heavenly 
places  above;  our  songs  have  ascended  in  pleasant 
harmony  with  those  who  now  offer  praise  before  the 
highest  throne  ;  the  venerable  and  the  beloved  have 
been  trained  to  holiness  in  our  companionship ;  what 
ever  may  be  the  future  we  have  been  blest  in  the 
past;  and  whether  this  pulpit  shall  be  filled  by  him 
who  now  addresses  you,  or  by  another  who  shall  fill 
it  more  worthily,  he  will  never  cease  to  call  down 
upon  it  the  choicest  benedictions  of  Heaven. 

"  Peace  be  within  these  walls,  and  prosperity  within 


MINISTRY.  91 

this  dwelling.     For  my  brethren    and   companions' 
sake,  I  will  ever  say,  peace  be  within  thee." 
I  remain  your  devoted  and  affectionate  servant, 

GEOHGE  RIPLET. 

BOSTON,  October  1,  1840. 

To  a  letter  like  this,  —  so  frank  and  sincere, 
betraying  in  every  line  so  profound  a  feeling  of 
the  incompatibility  which  existed  between  min 
ister  and  people,  so  fraught  with  open  secrets, 
—  there  could  be  no  reassuring  answer.  The 
ultimate  event  was  clearly  foreseen.  On  the 
1st  of  January,  1841,  the  minister  addressed  a 
note  to  the  proprietors,  requesting  to  be  per 
mitted  to  depart  after  three  months  more  of 
service.  On  the  31st  of  the  month  the  propri 
etors  approved  a  letter  accepting  the  resigna 
tion,  and  resolutions  expressing,  in  terms  of  un 
qualified  import,  confidence  and  affection.  The 
farewell  discourse,  a  model  of  dignified  speech, 
gentle,  delicate,  sympathetic  enough,  touching, 
but  not  dwelling,  on  the  causes  of  the  separa 
tion,  a  truly  pastoral  sermon,  was  delivered 
March  28th,  and  printed  for  the  use  of  the 
church  in  a  pamphlet,  which  contained,  besides 
the  sermon,  the  communications  which  recorded 
the  final  separation. 

Thus  the  ministry  ended,  never,  in  that  form, 
to  be  resumed.  But  to  the  end  of  his  days  Mr. 
Ripley  looked  back  on  it  with  tender  interest. 


92  GEORGE  RIPLEY 

At  Brook  Farm  he  enjoyed  the  singing  of  the 
familiar  hymn-tunes  of  the  old  service.  In  New 
York  it  was  his  habit,  until  infirmity  prevented, 
to  attend  religious  worship.  He  clung  to  sacred 
associations  ;  deplored  the  tendency  to  make  re 
ligious  observances  secular  by  substituting  halls 
for  meeting-houses,  and  lectures  for  sermons ; 
and  held  in  high  esteem  the  earnest  prophets  of 
the  soul.  As  late  as  1875,  he  wrote  to  an  old 
Boston  friend,  a  contributor  to  the  "  American 
Cyclopaedia  "  :  "  You  take  it  for  granted  that  I 
feel  but  little  interest  in  the  old  Unitarianism, 
which  is  not  the  case.  I  owe  it  a  great  debt  of 
gratitude  for  the  best  influences  that  my  youth 
enjoyed  ;  and  if  any  little  success  has  attended 
my  subsequent  career,  it  has  been  chiefly  caused 
by  the  impulses  I  received  in  Boston,  and  es 
pecially  from  my  association  with  the  liberal 
and  noble  minded  men  whom  I  loved  as  friends 
and  honored  as  guides."  In  1879  he  wrote  in 
similar  strains  to  Dr.  G.  W.  Hosmer:  "I  trust 
that  it  is  not  a  weakness  of  advanced  years  that 
I  cherish  so  strong  an  affection  for  my  old  Mas 
sachusetts  friends,  and  especially  for  my  breth 
ren  in  the  Unitarian  ministry,  whom  I  always 
regard  as  the  best  specimens  of  noble  and  en 
lightened  manhood  that  I  ever  met  with." 

His  last  service  was  rendered  at  the  ordina 
tion  of  his  successor,  J.  I.  T.  Coolidge,  on  Feb- 


MINISTRY.  93 

ruary  9,  1842,  on  which  occasion  he  came  from 
Brook  Farm  to  deliver  the  "  Address  to  the 
People."  The  meeting-house  was  repaired, 
and,  as  far  as  was  proper,  embellished  for  the 
new  pastor  ;  but  in  vain.  In  less  than  five 
years  it  was  thought  wise  to  change  the  loca 
tion  ;  the  corner-stone  of  a  new,  and  for  that 
time  sumptuous,  edifice  was  laid,  May  3,  1847 ; 
on  the  same  day,  the  year  following,  it  was  ded* 
icated.  The  name  of  the  society  was  changed 
to  the  "  Thirteenth  Congregational  Church  of 
the  City  of  Boston ;  "  substantially  another  so 
ciety  was  formed  in  another  part  of  the  town, 
at  the  corner  of  Harrison  Avenue  and  Beach 
Street ;  but  fortune  did  not  smile  on  the  under 
taking.  In  1860  the  society  was  dissolved,  and 
at  present  no  longer  exists.  The  very  records 
of  the  church  were  lost.  A  single  charred  vol 
ume  of  business  entries  remains  to  tell  the  story 
of  financial  relations. 


CHAPTER  H. 
GERMS   OF    THOUGHT. 

GEORGE  RIPLEY'S  literary  activity  began 
early,  and  was  from  the  first  directed  to  the 
deepest  problems.  For  a  short  period  lie  edited 
the  "  Christian  Register,"  which,  in  his  hands, 
•was  all  that  it  was  designed  to  be,  an  organ  of 
liberal  views  in  theology.  His  occasionally 
printed  sermons  and  tracts  ever  bore  upon 
some  interesting  phase  of  speculation.  Between 
1830  and  18o7  he  wrote  ten  articles  for  the 
"Christian  Examiner,"  all  either  stating  or 
foreshadowing  his  later  conclusions.  The  first 
paper,  on  Degerando  (September,  1830),  indi 
cated  the  theory  of  self-education  as  self-devel 
opment.  The  second,  "  Religion  in  France  " 
(July,  1831),  contains  an  enthusiastic  plea  for 
spiritual  Christianity,  without  priest,  dogma,  or 
intellectual  limitation.  This  was  followed  by 
"  IVstalozzi  "  (January,  1832),  and  by  a  notice 
of  Follen's  Inaugural.  A  paper  reviewing 
Mackintosh's  Ethical  Philosophy,  clear,  forci 
ble,  argumentative,  defends  the  doctrine  of  a 
moral  sense  in  man.  To  some  degree  the  same 


GERMS  OF  THOUGHT.  95 

doctrine  had  come  out  in  the  article  on  Pesta- 
lozzi,  whose  humane  aspirations  found  a  hearty 
response  from  the  American  critic,  and  whose 
experiment,  "  Neuhof,"  may  have  been  one  of 
the  incentives  to  Brook  Farm.  Next  (May, 
1835)  came  a  review  of  Marsh's  translation  of 
Herder.  The  reviewer  speaks  with  some  re 
serve  of  German  theologians,  but  praises  Tho- 
luck,  protests  against  the  indiscriminate  charge 
of  mysticism  and  obscurity,  and  repels  the  no 
tion  that  German  philosophy  is  irreligious.  A 
new  reformation,  he  contends,  is  started  in  Ger 
many  by  men  like  Herder,  Baumgarten,  Sem- 
ler,  Ernesti,  and  Michaelis.  A  characteristic 
paper  on  Herder's  theological  opinions  was  also 
printed  in  1835.  In  March,  1S36,  came  an  arti 
cle,  mainly  translated,  on  Schleiermacher,  who, 
he  thinks,  "  is  without  a  representative  in  our 
theological  progress."  The  remarkable  article 
on  Martineau's  "  Rationale  of  Religious  In 
quiry  "  appeared  in  the  "  Examiner  "  for  No 
vember,  1836.  In  this  paper  a  distinction  is 
made  between  liability  to  error  and  absence  of 
that  inspiration,  which,  in  spite  of  incidental 
error,  is  claimed  for  the  writers  of  the  New  Tes 
tament,  as  well  as  for  the  prophets  and  law-giv 
ers  of  the  ancient  dispensation,  for  the  soul  of 
man,  but  for  Christ  alone,  "  in  entire  and  abso 
lute  completeness."  This  article  caused  great 


96  GEORGE  RIPLEY. 

sensation.  Mr.  Andrews  Norton  called  atten 
tion  to  it  in  the  "  Boston  Daily  Advertiser," 
condemning  its  doctrines  as  leaning  toward  in 
fidelity,  and  rebuking  the  presumption  of  the 
young  writer.  Mr.  Ripley  printed  a  rejoinder 
in  the  same  paper  on  the  very  next  day.  This 
was  the  last  paper  of  importance  that  he  sent 
to  the  "  Examiner,"  for  the  translation  from 
Ullman  of  Herder's  "  Theological  Aphorisms  " 
(January,  1837)  contained  nothing  suggestive. 
About  this  time  there  was  much  interest  among 
Unitarians  in  new  views  on  Christianity  and 
Religion.  In  May  of  that  year  Orville  Dewey 
delivered  the  Dudleian  Lecture  at  Cambridge, 
choosing  "  Miracles  "  as  his  theme.  The  first 
volume  of  Norton's  "  Genuineness  of  the  Gos 
pels  "  was  published  in  1837,  and  straightway 
reviewed  in  the  "  Examiner,"  by  A.  A.  Liver- 
more.  James  Walker,  A.  P.  Peabody,  Orville 
Dewey,  and  other  leaders  of  thought  were  writ 
ing  in  the  "  Examiner  "  about  Revelation,  Mir 
acles,  Inspiration,  Christ's  Moral  Character. 
In  the  "Examiner"  for  March,  1833,  F.  H. 
Hedge  published  an  article  on  Coleridge,  in 
\vhich  he  found  occasion  to  commend  Kant, 
Fichte,  especially  Schelling,  and  spoke  warmly 
of  the  intellectual  and  spiritual  influence  of  the 
transcendental  philosophy.  This  paper  was 
praised  by  Mr.  Ripley  in  the  "  Register,"  and 


GERMS  OF   THOUGHT.  97 

was,  doubtless,  of  potent  influence  in  determin 
ing  the  bent  of  his  mind. 

The  "  Discourses  on  the  Philosophy  of  Relig 
ion  Addressed  to  Doubters  who  wish  to  Be 
lieve,"  —  published  in  1836,  —  comprised  six 
sermons,  one  of  which,  the  fifth,  "  On  the  Coin 
cidence  of  Christianity  with  the  Higher  Nature 
of  Man,"  had  been  printed  before  in  the  "  Lib 
eral  Preacher."  The  little  volume  was  not  is 
sued  by  way  of  controversy.  The  professed  aim 
was  "  the  quickening  of  a  pure  faith  in  spirit 
ual  truth  by  a  calm  exposition  of  some  of  the 
principles  on  which  it  rests."  The  discourses 
present  the  positive  side  of  the  author's  faith. 
They  are  in  tone  sympathetic  and  gracious, 
charged  with  a  serene  and  confiding  piety.  The 
"  Examiner  "  speaks  of  the  book  as  "  one  of  the 
happiest  among  the  many  indications  we  have 
had  of  late  of  a  disposition  to  introduce  a  higher 
tone  of  spirituality  into  the  preaching  of  Unita 
rians."  In  1838  appeared  the  first  two  volumes 
of  the  series  entitled  "  Specimens  of  Foreign 
Standard  Literature,"  which  extended  to  four 
teen  volumes,  by  J.  S.  Dwight,  Margaret  Fuller, 
C.  C.  Felton,  W.  H.  Channing,  J.  F.  Clarke, 
Samuel  Osgood,  and  C.  T.  Brooks.  The  "  Phil 
osophical  Miscellanies,"  as  the  opening  volumes 
were  called,  contained  careful  introductory  and 
critical  notices  of  the  works  of  Cousin,  Jouffroy, 
7 


98  GEORGE  RIP  LEY. 

and  Constant,  especially  of  Cousin,  accompa 
nied  by  translations  of  such  passages  from  their 
published  writings  as  were  judged  best  suited 
to  illustrate  the  course  of  French  philosophy  in 
its  pursuit  of  an  ideal  aim.  These  volumes  hail 
a  marked  influence  on  the  educated  men  of  that 
day,  especially  in  New  England.  They  were 
afterwards  —  in  18-37  —  republished  in  Edin 
burgh. 

By  this  time  the  way  was  prepared  for  the 
vindication  of  Spinoza,  Schleiermacher,  and  De 
Wette  against  the  charge  of  atheism  and  ir re 
ligion  brought  by  Mr.  Andrews  Norton.  Mr. 
Emerson's  famous  u  Address  to  the  Alumni  of 
the  Cambridge  Divinity  School  *'  was  given  in 
1838.  It  effectually  discharged  the  electricity 
that  was  in  the  air.  At  the  succeeding  anni 
versary,  in  18-19,  Andrews  Norton  gave  the  ad 
dress  on  kk  The  Latest  Form  of  Infidelity."  It 
was  a  resolute,  unflinching,  scornful,  but  able 
and  strong  attack  on  the  prevailing  philosoph 
ical  tendency.  His  doctrine  was  "  Sensation 
alism  "  of  an  extreme  type. 

"  To  the  demand  for  certainty,  let  it  come 
from  whom  it  may,  I  answer,  that  I  know  of  no 
absolute  certainty,  beyond  the  limit  of  moment 
ary  consciousness,  —  a  certainty  that  vanishes 
the  instant  it  exists,  and  is  lost  in  the  region  of 
metaphysical  doubt."  "  There  can  be  no  intui- 


GERMS   OF  THOUGHT.  99 

tion,  no  direct  perception,  of  the  truth  of  Chris 
tianity,  no  metaphysical  certainty."  "  We  must 
use  the  same  faculties  and  adopt  the  same  rules, 
in  judging  concerning  the  facts  of  the  world 
which  we  have  not  seen,  as  concerning  those  of 
the  world  of  which  we  have  seen  a  very  little." 
"  We  proceed  throughout  upon  probabilities.'' 
"  Of  the  facts  on  which  religion  is  founded,  we 
can  pretend  to  no  assurance,  except  that  de 
rived  from  the  testimony  of  God,  from  the 
Christian  revelation."  "  We  can  have  no  re 
ligious  sentiment  of  the  Infinite,  unless  we  have 
faith  in  the  one  Infinite  Being,  the  God  of 
Christianity.  We  can  have  no  religious  love 
of  the  beautiful  and  true,  or,  in  common  lan 
guage,  of  beauty  and  truth,  if  we  do  not  recog 
nize  something  beautiful  and  true  beyond  the 
limits  of  this  world."  "He  who  has  any  relig 
ious  sentiment  must  have  a  religious  creed." 
"  Religious  principle  and  feeling,  however  im 
portant,  are  necessarily  founded  on  the  belief 
of  certain  facts :  of  the  existence  and  provi 
dence  of  God,  and  of  man's  immortality.  Now 
the  evidence  of  these  facts  is  not  intuitive." 
"  Our  belief  in  those  truths,  the  evidence  of 
which  we  cannot  examine  for  ourselves,  is 
founded  in  a  greater  or  less  degree  on  the  testi 
mony  of  others,  who  have  examined  their  evi 
dence,  and  whom  we  regard  as  intelligent  and 
trustworthy." 


100  GEORGE  RIP  LET. 

The  reply,  published  anonymously,  by  "  An 
Alumnus,"  in  1839,  was  a  model  of  controver 
sial  writing,  —  clear,  calm,  impersonal,  not  free 
from  asperity,  but  free  from  bitterness.  Theo 
dore  Parker  said,  in  a  letter  to  a  friend :  "  Rip- 
ley  is  writing  the  reply  to  Mr.  Norton.  It  will 
;make  a  pamphlet  of  about  one  hundred  pai^s 
octavo,  and  is  clear,  strong,  and  good.  He  will 
not  say  all  that  I  wish  might  be  said  ;  but,  after 
we  have  seen  that,  I  will  handle,  in  a  letter  to 
you,  certain  other  points  not  approached  by 
Ripley.  There  is  a  higher  word  to  be  said  on 
this  subject  than  Ripley  is  disposed  to  say  just 
now."  The  "  Alumnus  "  did  indeed,  in  his  first 
letter,  confine  himself  to  the  main  point  raised 
by  Mr.  Norton,  namely,  his  adoption  and  de 
fense  of  the  "  Exclusive  Principle,"  in  an  ad 
dress  before  an  assembly  of  liberal  clergvmen. 
The  doctrine  disputed  is  that  the  "MIRACLES 

KECORDED  IN  THE  NEW  TESTAMENT  ARE  THE 
ONLY  PROOF  OF  THE  DIVINE  ORIGIN  OF  CHRIS 
TIANITY."  For  himself,  the  writer  disclaims 
historical  unbelief. 

"  The  question  at  issue,"  he  says,  "  ought  to 
be  distinctly  understood.  It  is  not  concerning 
the  divine  mission  of  Jesus  Christ.  The  cer 
tainty  of  that  will  be  at  the  foundation  of  my 
reasonings,  and  it  is  admitted,  as  far  as  I  know, 
in  all  the  controversies  to  which  the  subject  has 
given  rise  in  our  own  country. 


GERMS   OF  THOU  GET.  101 

"Nor  is  it  whether  Jesus  Christ  performed 
the  miracles  ascribed  to  him  in  the  New  Testa 
ment.  I  shall  hereafter  allude  to  the  doubts 
which  are  felt  by  many  excellent  Christians  on 
this  point ;  but,  for  my  own  part,  I  cannot  avoid 
the  conclusion  that  the  miracles  related  in  the 
Gospels  were  actually  wrought  by  Jesus.  With 
out  being  blind  to  the  difficulties  of  the  subject, 
I  receive  this  view,  according  to  my  best  knowl 
edge  and  understanding,  on  the  evidence  pre 
sented,  and  in  this  belief  I  am  joined  by  a  large 
number  of  those,  against  whom  your  charge  of 
infidelity  is  alleged,  among  ourselves. 

"Neither  does  the  question  I  am  about  to 
consider  relate  to  any  philosophical  explanation 
of  the  miracles  of  Christ.  I  believe  that  he 
gave  health  to  the  sick,  sight  to  the  blind,  and 
life  to  the  dead ;  and  my  explanation  of  these 
facts  is  that  presented  in  the  New  Testament." 

The  error  he  combats  is  opposed  on  several 
grounds:  1.  As  being  bold,  extravagant,  and 
novel.  2.  As  being  contrary  to  the  clear  and 
express  teachings  of  the  Scriptures,  both  of  the 
Old  and  the  New  Testament.  3.  As  being  in 
compatible  with  precise  directions  to  scrutinize 
and  reject  miraculous  claims  when  put  forward 
by  false  prophets.  4.  The  doctrine  that  mira 
cles  are  the  only  evidence  of  a  divine  revelation, 
if  generally  admitted,  would  impair  the  influ- 


102  GEORGE  RIPLEY. 

ence  of  the  Christian  ministry,  by  separating 
the  pastor  of  a  church  from  the  sympathies  of 
his  people.  5.  It  would  have  an  injurious  bear 
ing  on  the.  character  of  a  large  portion  of  the 
most  sincere  believers  in  Christ.  6.  It  removes 
Christianity  from  its  stronghold  in  the  common 
mind,  and  puts  it  into  the  keeping  of  scholars 
and  antiquaries.  "Christian  Truth,"  it  is  as 
serted,  "has  always  been  addressed  to  the  'in 
tuitive  perceptions'  of  the  common  mind.  A 
shallow  and  presumptuous  philosophy — pre 
sumptuous  because  shallow  —  usurps  the  place 
of  the  simplicity  of  Christ,  and  would  fain 
smother  the  breathing  life  of  heavenly  truth. 
Creeds  came  into  the  church  with  the  dreams 
of  speculation.  They  have  been  handed  down 
through  the  dust  of  the  schools;  they  Lave 
sought  their  principal  defense  in  the  subtile, 
shadowy,  and  artificial  distinctions  of  the 
learned  ;  and  the  most  vigorous  attacks  they 
have  received  have  come  from  the  unarmed 
strength  of  plebeian  sects." 

Mr.  Norton  put  the  substance  of  this  Letter 
contemptuously  aside,  as  not  being  addressed 
to  an  examination  of  his  reasoning.  He  could 
hardly  say  that  of  the  two  subsequent  Letters, 
which  were  devoted  to  a  defense  of  Spinoza, 
Schleiermacher,  and  De  Wette  against  the 
charge  of  atheism  and  irreligion.  In  the  second 


GEIt^fS   OF  THOUGHT.  103 

of  these,  page  148,  occurs  this  language :  "  The 
principle  that  the  soul  has  no  faculty  to  perceive 
spiritual  truth  is  contradicted,  I  believe,  by  the 
universal  consciousness  of  man.  God  has  never 
left  himself  without  witness  in  the  human  heart. 
The  true  light  has  shone,  more  or  less  brightly, 
on  every  man  that  cometh  into  the  world.  This 
Divine  Spirit  has  never  ceased  to  strive  with 
the  children  of  earth;  it  has  helped  their  in 
firmities,  given  them  just  and  elevated  concep 
tions,  touched  their  eyes  with  celestial  light, 
and  enabled  them  to  see  the  beauty  and  glory 
of  divine  things.  God  has  ever  manifested  him 
self  to  his  intelligent  creatures  ;  but  have  they 
no  faculty  to  behold  this  manifestation?  No; 
man  has  the  faculty  for  4  feeling  and  perceiving 
religious  truth.'  So  far  from  being  imaginary, 
it  is  the  highest  reality  of  which  the  pure  soul 
is  conscious.  Can  I  be  more  certain  that  I  am 
capable  of  looking  out  and  admiring  the  forms 
of  external  beauty,  '  the  frail  and  weary  weed 
in  which  God  dresses  the  soul  that  he  has  called 
into  time,'  than  that  I  can  also  look  within,  and 
commune  with  the  fairer  forms  of  truth  and 
holiness,  which  plead  for  my  love,  as  visitants 
from  heaven?  " 

In  the  second  Letter,  that  on  Spinoza,  he  had 
written  :  "  They  (scholars)  are  called  on  for 
ihe  most  gracious  sympathies  with  the  whole 


104  GEORGE  RIPLET. 

community.  They  should  freely  give  of  all  the 
light  which  they  have  freely  received.  This 
cannot  be  done  by  diverting  public  attention 
from  general  topics  to  personal  interests.  These 
topics  must  be  met  with  manliness  and  with 
temperate  zeal.  There  must  be  no  disguise,  no 
timidity,  no  bitterness,  no  exclusiveness.  Even 
those  of  us  who  are  deeply  sensible  of  having 
no  claim  on  the  attention  of  the  public,  and 
who  would  gladly  exchange  the  field  of  dispute 
'for  the  still  and  quiet  air  of  delightful  studies,' 
or  the  more  attractive  walks  of  practical  useful 
ness,  are  bound  to  utter  the,  word  which  it  may 
be  given  us  to  speak."  Then  follows  a  quiet 
but  unsparing  criticism  of  what  he  considers 
Mr.  Norton's  unjust  aspersions  on  a  "devout, 
sweet,  unselfish,  truth-seeking  "  man. 

This  was  in  1840.  In  1855,  noticing  in  the 
New  York  "  Tribune "  Mr.  Norton's  transla 
tion  of  the  Gospels,  he  said  of  its  author  :  "  His 
mind  was  so  habitually  severe  in  its  action,  his 
demand  for  clearness  of  thought  and  expression 
was  so  unrelenting,  and  his  opinions  were  so 
accurately  formed  and  so  firmly  held,  that  no 
production  of  his  pen  could  fail  of  bearing  the 
characteristic  stamp  of  his  individual  genius 
and  culture.  .  .  .  He  often  expressed  rash  and 
hasty  judgments  in  regard  to  the  labors  of  re 
cent  or  contemporary  scholars,  consulting  his 


GERMS  OF  THOUGHT.  105 

prejudices,  as  it  would  seem,  rather  than  com 
petent  authority.  But  in  his  own  immediate 
department  of  sacred  learning  he  is  entitled  to 
the  praise  of  sobriety  of  thought  and  profound 
ness  of  investigation."  Later  still,  in  a  chapter 
on  u  Philosophic  Thought  in  Boston,"  written 
for  the  "  Memorial  History,"  the  younger  oppo 
nent  writes  thus  of  his  antagonist :  "  Contempo 
rary  with  Professor  Frisbie,  and  united  with 
him  by  the  most  intimate  ties  of  friendship  and 
sympathy,  was  Andrews  Norton,  who,  though 
trained  in  a  different  philosophical  school,  the 
principles  of  which  he  always  cherished  with 
singular  tenacity,  holds  a  distinguished  place 
among  the  intellectual  influences  which  have 
helped  to  stamp  the  society  of  Boston  with  an 
impress  of  liberal  inquiry  and  original  thought 
in  the  sphere  of  letters,  philosophy,  and  art." 
The  whole  passage  is  remarkable  as  a  tribute 
to  an  extraordinary  man,  and  as  an  illustration 
of  that  rare  balance  of  mind,  that  unfailing 
equity  and  sweetness  of  temper,  which  distin 
guished  George  Ripley  through  life. 

In  the  same  year  that  this  controversy  was 
going  on  (1840),  in  connection  with  R.  W.  Em 
erson  and  Margaret  Fuller,  Mr.  Ripley  estab 
lished  "  The  Dial,"  a  monthly  magazine  for  re 
ligion,  literature,  and  art,  of  which  he  was  the 
resident  editor  in  Boston  until  his  removal  to 


106  GEORGE  RJPLEY. 

Brook  Farm  in  1841.  During  the  short  period 
of  bis  association  with  it  he  contributed  two 
articles,  one  a  review  of  Orestes  A.  Brown- 
son's  writings,  the  other  a  "  Letter  to  a  Theo 
logical  Student."  The  first  is  a  hearty  tribute 
to  "a  writer  whose  native  force  of  miud,  com 
bined  with  rare  philosophical  attainments,  lias 
elevated  him  to  a  prominent  rank  among  the 
living  authors  of  this  country."  The  second  is 
a  warm  exhortation  to  a  young  aspirant  after 
the  honors  of  the  ministry  to  direct  his  eyes 
earnestly  to  "  the  great  lights  above  and  within." 
He  recommends  familiar  acquaintance  with  Her 
der's  "  Letters  on  the  Study  of  Theology,"  and 
says :  "  In  Europe  a  new  life  has  sprung  up 
from  the  ashes  of  a  departed  faith  ;  a  hag-like, 
scholastic  theology  has  given  up  the  ghost,  upon 
being  brought  out  of  darkness  into  daylight; 
and  a  virgin  form  appears,  radiant  with  beauty, 
and  already  uttering  the  same  words  with  which 
angel  voices  heralded  the  birth  of  Christ.  It 
is  for  our  young  men  to  welcome  this  glorious 
visitant  to  their  bosoms.  .  .  .  Let  your  mind 
be  filled  and  consecrated  with  the  heavenly 
spirit  of  Christ ;  let  your  youthful  energy  be 
blended  with  the  meekness  and  gentleness  and 
wisdom  of  your  Divine  Master,  and  you  will 
have  everything  to  hope  and  little  to  fear." 
The  man  who  could  write  such  words  was 


GERMS  OF  THOUGHT.  107 

surely  no  denier,  but  a  fervent  believer  rather. 
He  left  the  ministry  himself,  not  because  he 
had  lost  faith  in  it,  but  because  his  soul  was 
kindled  with  zeal  for  a  new,  and,  as  he  felt, 
better  method  of  applying  gospel  principles  to 
human  society.  He  had  become  persuaded, 
after  many  years  of  the  ablest  service  he  could 
render,  that  the  work  of  the  ministry  was  not 
the  work  appointed  for  him.  He  honored  it, 
but  could  perform  it  no  longer  ;  and  the  only 
way  that  he  knew  of  showing  how  truly  he  held 
it  in  honor  was  to  put  its  precepts  into  immedi 
ate  practice  by  instituting  a  social  order  which 
should  correspond  to  its  requirements  ;  by  a  he 
roic  attempt  to  bring  the  new  heaven  of  proph 
ecy  down  to  the  old  earth  of  fact.  He  had 
always  insisted  on  a  Christian  life  as  the  only 
sure  test  of  a  Christian  faith ;  now  he  meant 
to  put  into  radical  practice  the  lessons  of  his 
own  pulpit.  The  ministry  was  noble,  literature 
was  delightful,  but  duty  he  considered  before 
all. 


CHAPTER  III. 
BROOK   FARM. 

THE  plunge  from  the  pulpit  to  Brook  Farm, 
though  immediate,  was  not  so  headlong  as  is 
commonly  supposed  ;  on  the  contrary,  it  was 
natural,  comparatively  easy,  almost  inevitable. 
At  this  distance,  sharply  contrasting  the  two 
situations,  —  the  dignity,  leisure,  elegance,  re 
spectability  of  the  one,  with  the  democracy,  toil, 
rudeness,  unpopularity  of  the  other ;  the  quiet 
of  the  library  with  the  tumult  of  affairs  ;  the 
pursuit  of  high  philosophy  with  the  study  of 
soils  and  crops  ;  the  works  of  Kant,  Schelling, 
Cousin,  with  muck  manuals ;  broadcloth  and 
beaver  with  overalls  and  tarpaulin  ;  it  seems  as 
if  heroism  of  an  exalted  kind,  not  to  say  a  rash 
enthusiasm,  quite  unaccountable  in  a  cautious 
man,  must  have  stimulated  so  wild  an  enter 
prise.  Heroism  there  certainly  was.  There 
was  heroism  in  the  brave  preacher  who,  for 
nearly  fifteen  years,  had  proclaimed  a  gospel 
which  was  unwelcome  to  the  staid  Unitarian 
community  whereof  he  was  a  member.  But 
Brook  Farm  was  simply  the  logical  completion 


BROOK  FARM.  109 

of  the  pulpit  ministration  ;  a  final  proof  of  the 
preacher's  sincerity.  Besides  all  this,  it  would 
be  a  mistake  to  suppose  that  the  enterprise 
looked  then  as  chimerical  as  to  some  it  does  now. 
It  must  be  remembered  that  projects  of  radi 
cal  social  reform  were  in  the  air.  To  quote 
the  language  of  John  Morley  :  "  A  great  wave 
of  humanity,  of  benevolence,  of  desire  for  im 
provement,  —  a  great  wave  of  social  sentiment, 
in  short,  —  poured  itself  among  all  who  had 
the  faculty  of  large  and  disinterested  thinking." 
Dr.  Pusey  and  Dr.  Newman,  representatives 
of  the  vital  movement  in  the  direction  of  spirit 
ual  supernaturalism,  were  thinking  and  writing. 
Thomas  Arnold  and  F.  D.  Maurice  were  trying 
to  broaden  the  Church  of  England  in  the  direc 
tion  of  human  progress,  so  that  it  might  em 
brace  heaven  and  earth,  faith  and  philosophy, 
creed  and  criticism.  Carlyle  was  thundering 
against  shams  in  religion  and  politics.  Dickens 
was  showing  up  the  abuses,  cruelties,  and  iniq 
uities  of  the  established  order.  Kingsley  was 
stirring  the  caldron  of  social  discontent.  The 
teaching  of  George  Combe  was  heralded  as  an 
inspiration.  Cobden  was  inaugurating  a  new 
era  in  industrial  undertakings.  The  corn-law 
agitation  was  started.  John  Bright  and  Dan 
iel  O'Connell  were  busy  at  their  work  of  de 
stroying  monopolies.  In  France  as  well  as  in 


110  GEORGE  RIP  LET. 

England,  in  fact  all  over  Europe,  the  seeds  were 
ripening  for  the  great  revolt  of  1818. 

The  influence  of  the  new  ideas  was  felt  in  the 
United  States.  The  Communist  experiment 
in  Brazil  was  started  in  1841;  the  Hopedale 
Community  in  1842  ;  Robert  Owen's  enter 
prise  may  be  said  to  have  reached  its  highest 
level  in  1826  ;  the  writings  of  Charles  Fourier 
were  interpreted  here  by  Albert  Brisbane  and 
Horace  Greeley,  as  early  as  1842.  No  fewer 
than  eleven  experiments  followed  Owen's  ;  no 
fewer  than  thirty-four  were  creations  of  the 
impetus  given,  directly  or  indirectly,  by  Fou 
rier.  The  "enthusiasm  of  humanity"  was 
widespread.  We  have  the  testimony  of  James 
Marti neau  to  the  fact  that  Dr.  Chan n ing,  for  a 
time,  fell  under  the  fascination  of  some  of  the 
speculative  writers  that  abounded  at  that  time, 
who  held  forth  the  promise  of  a  Golden  Age  for 
society  ;  writers  like  Rousseau,  Godwin,  Mary 
Wollstonecraft,  the  Pantisocratists  like  Southey 
and  Coleridge,  who  actually  entertained  the 
thought  of  going  to  America  to  plant  an  ideal 
society.  Similar  plans  were  eagerly  discussed 
among  the  friends  of  progress  in  Boston, —  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  Ripley  being  prominent  as  talkers  and 
sympathetic  as  listeners.  One  of  the  most  sus 
ceptible  and  ardent  was  Mrs.  Ripley,  a  woman 
of  burning  enthusiasm,  warm  feeling,  and  pas- 


BROOK  FARM.  Ill 

sionate  will.  Theodore  Parker  made  the  fol 
lowing  entry  in  his  journal :  "  Mrs.  Ripley  gave 
me  a  tacit  rebuke  for  not  shrieking  at  wrongs, 
and  spoke  of  the  danger  of  losing  our  humanity 
in  abstractions." 

That  so  strong  a  feeling,  animating  com 
manding  minds,  kindling  the  circle  in  which  he 
was  intimate,  should  have  possessed,  and  even 
carried  away,  a  man  wearied  by  the  toil,  and 
disappointed  in  the  results,  of  a  long  ministry 
which  he  had  for  years  been  feeling  was  uncon 
genial,  is  not  surprising.  If  he  could  have  fore 
seen  the  end  from  the  beginning,  the  hard,  in 
cessant,  anxious  toil,  the  meagreness  of  popular 
sympathy,  the  waning  of  hopes,  the  final  disap 
pointment;  if  he  could  have  felt  the  precarious- 
ness  of  the  effort,  its  hopelessness  in  view  of  the 
existing  social  order,  its  ineffectiveness  in  that 
form,  as  a  scheme  for  regenerating  mankind, 
he  would  probably  have  hesitated  longer  than 
he  did,  perhaps  have  withdrawn  entirely.  But 
at  that  period  there  seemed  little  cause  for  mis 
giving.  The  heavenly  Jerusalem  was  in  the 
clouds,  waiting  to  descend.  The  believer  was 
justified  in  the  persuasion  that  the  time  for  its 
appearing  had  come.  The  disciples  were  gath 
ered  ;  the  iniquity  of  the  world  was  full ;  the 
angel  had  put  the  trumpet  to  his  lips. 

The  earliest  articles  of  association  are  here 
given :  — 


112  GEORGE  RIPLEY. 

ARTICLES  OF  ASSOCIATION  OF  THE  SUBSCRIBERS 
TO  THE  BROOK  FARM  INSTITUTE  OF  AGRICULT 
URE  AND  EDUCATION. 

Articles  of  Association  made  and  executed  this 
twenty-ninth  day  of  September,  one  thousand  eight 
hundred  and  forty-one,  by  and  between  the  several 
persons  and  their  assigns,  who  have  given  their  sig 
natures  to  this  instrument  and  by  it  associated  them 
selves  together  for  the  purpose  and  objects  herein 
after  set  forth :  — 

ART.  I.  The  name  and  style  of  this  Association 
shall  be  The  Subscribers  to  the  Brook  Farm  Insti 
tute  of  Agriculture  and  Education  ;  and  all  persons 
who  shall  hold  one  or  more  shares  of  the  stock  of  the 
Association  shall  be  members  ;  and  every  member 
shall  be  entitled  to  one  vote  on  all  matters  relating  to 
the  funds  of  the  Association. 

ART.  II.  The  object  of  the  Association  is  to  pur 
chase  such  estates  as  may  be  required  for  the  estab 
lishment  and  continuance  of  an  agricultural,  literary, 
and  scientific  school  or  college,  to  provide  such  lands 
and  houses,  animals,  libraries  and  apparatus,  as  may 
be  found  expedient  or  advantageous  to  the  main  pur 
pose  of  the  Association. 

ART.  III.  The  whole  property  of  the  Association, 
real  and  personal,  shall  be  vested  in  and  held  by  Four 
Trustees  to  be  elected  annually  by  the  Association. 

ART.  IV.  No  shareholder  shall  be  liable  to  any 
assessment  whatever  on  the  shares  held  by  him,  nor 
shall  he  be  held  responsible  individually  in  his  private 


BROOK  FARM.  113 

property  on  account  of  this  Association ;  nor  shall  the 
Trustees,  or  any  officer  or  agent  of  the  Association, 
have  any  authority  to  do  anything  which  shall  impose 
personal  responsibility  on  any  shareholder  by  making 
any  contracts  or  incurring  any  debts  for  which  the 
shareholders  shall  be  individually  or  personally  re 
sponsible. 

ART.  V.  All  conveyances  to  be  taken  for  lands  or 
other  real  estate  purchased  by  the  Association  in  pur 
suance  of  these  articles  shall  be  made  to  the  Trustees, 
their  successors  in  office  or  survivors  as  joint  tenants, 
and  not  as  tenants  in  common. 

ART.  VI.  The  Association  guarantees  to  each 
shareholder  the  interest  of  five  per  cent,  annually  on 
the  amount  of  stock  held  by  him  in  the  Association, 
and  this  interest  may  be  paid  in  certificates  of  stock 
and  credited  on  the  books  of  the  Association ;  pro 
vided,  however,  that  each  shareholder  may,  at  the 
time  of  the  annual  settlement,  draw  on  the  funds  of 
the  Association,  not  otherwise  appropriated,  to  an 
amount  not  exceeding  that  of  the  interest  credited  in 
his  favor. 

ART.  VII.  The  shareholders  on  their  part,  for 
themselves,  their  heirs  and  assigns,  do  renounce  all 
claim  on  any  profits  accruing  to  the  Association  for 
the  use  of  their  capital  invested  in  the  stock  of  the 
Association,  except  five  per  cent,  interest  on  the 
amount  of  stock  held  by  them,  payable  in  the  man 
ner  described  in  the  preceding  article. 

ART.  VIII.  Every  subscriber  may  receive  the  tui 
tion  of  one  pupil  for  every  share  held  by  him,  instead 
8 


114  GEORGE  RIPLET. 

of  five  per  cent,  interest,  as  stated  above,  or  tuition 
to  an  amount  not  exceeding  twenty  per  cent,  interest 
on  his  investment. 

ART.  IX.  No  share  shall  be  transferred  from  one 
person  to  another  without  the  consent  of  the  Trustees, 
nor  shall  any  such  transfer  be  valid  without  their  sig 
nature. 

ART.  X.  Every  shareholder  may  withdraw  his 
amount  of  stock  and  whatever  interest  is  due  thereon, 
by  giving  twelve  months'  notice  to  the  Trustees  of  the 
Association. 

ART.  XI.  The  capital  stock  of  the  Association, 
now  consisting  of  Twelve  Thousand  Dollars,  shall  be 
divided  into  shares  of  Five  Hundred  Dollars  each, 
and  may  be  increased  to  any  amount  at  the  pleasure 
of  the  Association. 

ART.  XII.  These  articles,  it  is  understood  and 
agreed  on,  are  intended  for  the  safe,  legal,  and  orderly 
holding  and  management  of  such  property  real  and 
personal  as  shall  further  the  purposes  of  the  "  Brook 
Farm  Institute  of  Agriculture  and  Education,"  to 
which  Institute  this  Association  of  subscribers  is  sub 
ordinate  and  auxiliary. 

SUBSCRIPTION. 

"We,  the  undersigned,  do  hereby  agree  to  pay  the 
sum  attached  to  our  names,  to  be  invested  in  the 
Brook  Farm  Institute  of  Agriculture  and  Education, 
according  to  the  conditions  described  in  the  foregoing 
Articles  of  Association. 

Date,  1841. 


BROOK  FARM. 


NAMES. 

SHARES. 

SUMS. 

Geo.  Ripley    .    .    . 

No.  1,  2,  and  3 

....     $1,500 

Naih.  Hawthorne    . 

"     18  and  19 

....       1,000 

Mi  not  Pratt    .     .     . 

"     4,  5,  and  6 

.    .    .    . 

,500 

Charles  A.  Dana     . 

"     10,  11,  and 

12   ... 

,500 

William  n.  Allen    . 

"     7,  8,  and  9 

.     .     .     . 

,500 

Sophia  VV.  Ripley   . 

"     16  and  17 

.... 

,000 

Maria  T.  Pratt    .     . 

"     20  and  21 

.     .     .     . 

,000 

Sarah  F.  Stearns     . 

"     22  and  23 

.... 

,000 

Marianne  Ripley     . 

"     13,  14,  and 

15    ...        1,500 

Charles  O.  Whitmore 

"     24    . 

500 

OFFICERS. 

At  a  meeting  of  the  Brook  Farm  Institute  of  Agri 
culture  and  Education,  held  on  Wednesday,  Septem 
ber  29,  1841,  the  following  persons  were  appointed 
to  office  as  follows  :  — 

General  Direction. 

Geo.  Ripley,  Minot  Pratt, 

Wm.  B.  Allen. 

Direction  of  Finance. 
Nath.  Hawthorne,  Chas.  A.  Dana, 

Wm.  B.  Allen. 

Direction  of  Agriculture. 

Wm.  B.  Allen,  Miuot  Pratt, 

Geo.  Ripley. 

Direction  of  Education. 

Sophia  W.  Ripley,  Charles  A.  Dana, 

Marianne  Ripley. 

Charles  A.  Dana  was  appointed  Recording  Secro- 


116  GEORGE  RIPLEY. 

tary,  and  Minot  Pratt,  Treasurer ;  and  the  meeting 

adjourned. 

CHAS.  ANDERSON  DANA,  Secretary. 

At  a  meeting  of  the  Brook  Farm  Institute  of  Agri 
culture  and  Education  on  Saturday  last,  October  30, 
"  41,  the  following  votes  were  passed  :  — 

Voted,  1.  To  transfer  the  Institution  recently  car 
ried  on  by  George  Ripley  to  the  Brook  Farm  Insti 
tute  of  Agriculture  and  Education  from  and  after  No 
vember  1,  1841,  according  to  the  conditions  stated  in 
the  instru&ient  of  this  date,  and  signed  by  George 
Ripley,  William  B.  Allen,  and  Charles  A.  Dana. 

2.  To  transfer  the  establishment  recently  carried 
on  by  Marianne  Ripley  to  the  Brook  Farm  Institute, 
from  and  after  November  1,  1841,  according  to  the 
conditions  stated  in  the  instrument  referred  to  in  the 
above  vote. 

3.  That,  in  the  annual  settlement  with  individual 
members,  each  member  shall  be  allowed  board  in  pro 
portion  to  the    time  employed   for  the  Association : 
that  is,  one  year's  board  for  one  year's  labor  ;  one 
half  year's  board  for  one  half  year's  labor ;  and  if  no 
labor  is  done,  the  whole  board  shall  be  charged. 

4.  That  the  price  of  board  charged  to  the  Asso 
ciates  shall  be  $4.00  per  week,  until  otherwise  or 
dered,  including  house-rent,  fuel,  light,  and  washing. 

5.  That  three  hundred  days'  labor  shall  be  consid 
ered  equal  to  one  year's  labor,  and  shall  entitle  a  per 
son  to  one  share  of  the  annual  dividend,  and  no  allow 
ance  shall  be  made  for  a  greater  amount  of  labor. 

G.  That  sixty  hours  shall  be  considered  equal  to 


BROOK  FARM.  117 

six  days'  labor  for  the  months  of  May,  June,  July, 
August,  September,  and  October,  inclusive  ;  forty- 
eight  hours,  from  November  to  April,  inclusive. 

7.  That  for  children  of  the   associates,  over  ten 
years  of  age,  board  shall  be  charged  at  half  the  estab 
lished  rate. 

8.  That  the  price  of  board  and  tuition  shall  be 
$4.00  a  week  for  boys,  arid  $5.00  a  week  for  girls 
over  twelve  years  of  age  ;  and  $3.50  a  week  for  chil 
dren  under  that  age,  exclusive  of  washing  and  sepa 
rate  fire.  CHAS.  ANDERSON  DANA,  Secretary. 

_The  "  Brook  Farm  Association  for  Education 
and  Agriculture,"  was   put  in^motion   in  the 

___  -*"•*-  -  —  --  *  - 

spring  of  1841.  There  was  no  difficulty  in  col 
lecting  a~~company  of  men_aiid  women  large 
eTioTTgirTioninalie  a  beginning.  One  thml  of  the 
siTbscripTibns  was  actually  paid  in,  Mr.  Ripley 
pledging  his  library  for  four  hundred  dollars  of 
his  amount.  With  the  sum  subscribed  a  farm 
of  a  little  less  than  two  hundred  acres  was 
bought  for  ten  thousand  five  hundred  dollars, 
in  West  Roxbury,  about  nine  miles  from  Bos 
ton.  The  site  was  a  pleasant  one,  not  far  from 
Theodore  Parker's  meeting-house  in  ^Spring 
Street,  arid  in  close  vicinity  to  some  of  the  most 
wealthy,  capable,  and  zealous  friends  of  the  en- 
It  was  charmingly  diversified  with 


hill  and  hollow,  meadow  and  upland.     It  pos 
sessed,  moreover,  historical  associations,  which 


118  GEORGE  RIPLEY. 

were  interesting  to  its  new  occupants.  Here 
the  "  apostle  "  Eliot  preached  to  the  Indians  ; 
his  grave  was  hard  by.  The  birth-place  was 
not  far  distant  of  General  Warren,  of  Revolu 
tionary  fame.  The  spot  seemed  peculiarly  ap 
propriate  to  the  uses  it  was  now  set  apart  for. 
Later  experience  showed  its  unfitness  for  lucra 
tive  tillage,  but  for  an  institute  of  education, 
a  semi-aesthetic,  immune  undertaking,  noth i n g 
could  be  better. 

"Tins  is  the  place  to  say,  once  for  all,  with  the 
utmost  possible  emphasis,  that  Brook  Farm  was 
not  a  u  community"  in  the  usual  sense  of  the 
term.  There  was  no  element  of  "  socialism  " 
in  it.  There  was  about  it  no  savor  of  antino- 
mianism,  no  taint  of  pessimism,  no  aroma,  how 
ever  faint,  of  nihilism.  It  was  wholly  unlike 
any  of  the  "religious"  associations  whidi  had 
been  established  in  generations  before,  or  any 
of  the  atheistic  or  mechanical  arrangements 
which  were  attempted  simultaneously  or  after 
wards.  Dr.  Channing  had  said,  in  a  letter  to 
Rev.  Adin  Ballon,  dated  February  27,  1841, 
two  months  before  the  beginning  of  Brook 
Farm,  "  I  have  for  a  very  long  time  dreamed 
of  an  association  in  which  the  members,  instead 
of  preying  on  one  another,  and  seeking  to  put 
one  another  down,  after  the  fashion  of  this 
world,  si  ion  Id  live  together  as  brothers,  seeking 
one  another's  elevation  and  spiritual  growth." 


BROOK  FARM.  119 

The  institution  of  Brook  Farm,  though  far 
from  being  "religious"  in  the  usual  sense  of 
the  word,  was  enthusiastically  religious  in  spirit 
and  purpose.  The  faith  in  the  divinity  of  nat 
ural  impulse  may  have  been  excessive,  but  em 
phasis  was  so  strongly  laid  on  the  divinity  that 
the  common  dangers  of  following  impulse  were 
avoided.  Confidence  in  freedom  may  have  been 
exaggerated,  but,  inasmuch  as  the  freedom  was 
interpreted  as  freedom  to  become  wise  and  good, 
simple  and  self-sacrificing,  gentle  and  kind,  its 
earthward  tendency  was  no  cause  of  anxiety. 
There  was  no  theological  creed,  no  ecclesiastical 
form,  no  inquisition  into  opinions,  no  avowed 
reliance  on  superhuman  aid.  The  thoughts  of 
all  were  heartily  respected  ;  and  while  some 
listened  with  sympathy  to  Theodore  Parker, 
others  went  to  church  nowhere,  or  sought  the 
privileges  of  their  own  communion.  At  the 
funeral  of  one  who  died  in  the  Episcopal  faith, 
the  services  were  conducted  in  accordance  with 
that  ritual.  There  were  many  Swedenborgians 
in  the  company  ;  in  fact,  there  was  a  decided 
leaning  towards  the  views  of  the  Swedish  mys 
tic  ;  but  no  attempt  was  made  to  fashion  opin 
ion  in  that  or  in  any  other  mould.  The  spirit 
of  hope  in  the  Association  was  too  elevated  for 
that.  It  has  been  well  said  that  the  aim  of  the 
Association  was  practical,  not  theoretical,  not 


120  GEORGE  RIP  LEY. 

transcendental,  not  intellectual ;  in  the  same 
breath  it  must  be  added  that  it  was,  in  a  high 
sense,  spiritual ;  that  it  was  practical  because  it 
\vas  spiritual ;  that  while  it  aimed  at  the  phys 
ical  and  mental  elevation  of  the  poorer  classes, 
it  did  so  because  it  believed  in  their  natural  ca 
pacity  for  elevation  as  children  of  God.  The 
leaders  trusted  in  the  power  of  light  and  love, 
in  natural  truth  and  justice,  and  were  persuaded 
that  the  world  could  be  helped  by  nothing  else. 
They  believed,  therefore  they  toiled. 

More  than  this,  they  felt  themselves  to  be 
Christians.  The  name  of  Jesus  was  always 
spoken  with  earnest  reverence.  Mr.  W.  H. 
Channing,  then  as  now  an  enthusiastic  preacher 
of  gospel  righteousness,  was  a  welcome  prophet 
among  them.  Their  discussions  were  always 
within  the  limits  of  the  Christian  dispensation, 
never  conducted  in  the  interest  of  denial  or 
skepticism.  In  a  word,  the  faith  in  mental 
freedom  was  so  cordial,  sincere,  hospitable,  that 
no  intrusion  of  the  sectarian  temper  was  pos 
sible  ;  and  the  persuasion  was  so  clear  that  the 
various  forms  of  religious  faith  were  but  so 
many  adaptations  to  spiritual  need,  that  none 
were  tempted  to  do  more  than  set  forth  the  at 
tractions  of  their  own  favorite  worship. 

In  an  article  written  for  the  "  Democratic  Re- 
)  view  "  of  November,  1842,  the  editor,  Orestes 


BROOK  FARM.  121 

A.  Brownson,  defined  Brook  Farm  as  an  In 
dustrial  Establishment,  quoting  its  founder  to 
that  effect.  After  giving  the  u  clerical  "  answer 
to  the  social  problem,  the  "ethical"  answer,  the 
answer  of  the  "  politician,"  the  "  political  econ 
omist,"  the  "  socialist,"  Mr.  Brownson  declares 
his  preference  for  Brook  Farm,  as  being  sim 
ple,  unpretending,  and  presenting  itself  "  by  no 
means  as  a  grand  scheme  of  world  reform,  or  of 
social  organization."  He  describes  their  leader 
as  "  a  .man  of  rare  attainments,  one  of  our  best 
scholars,  as  a  metaphysician  second  to  no  one 
in  the  country,  and  says :  "  A  few  men  and 
women,  of  like  views  and  feelings,  grouped 
themselves  around  him,  not  as  their  master,  but 
as  their  friend  and  brother."  They  "  leave  the 
State  and  Church  standing  in  all  their  necessity 
and  force."  "  It  essentially  breaks  the  family 
caste,  while  it  preserves  the  family  inviolate." 
"  Individual  property  is  recognized  and  sacred. 
But,  by  making  time,  not  skill  nor  intensity,  the 
basis  according  to  which  the  compensation  of 
labor  is  determined,  and  by  eating  at  a  common 
table,  and  laboring  in  common  and  sharing  in 
common  the  advantages  of  the  individual  excel 
lence  there  may  be  in  the  community,  the  indi 
vidual  feeling  is  subdued,  and,  while  suffered  to 
remain  as  a  spring  of  industry,  it  is  shorn  of  its 
power  to  encroach  on  the  social  body."  The 


122  GEORGE  RIPLEY. 

letter  printed  along  with  the  article  —  the  occa 
sion,  in  fact,  of  its  being  written  —  dwells  on  the 
Christian  democracy  of  the  establishment,  the 
good-will,  the  admirable  teaching,  the  cheerful 
toil,  the  happiness  of  the  children,  the  service- 
ableness  of  the  women,  the  diligence  in  farm, 
garden,  and  fruit  culture,  the  cordial  humanity, 
the  glad  self-sacrifice,  the  extraordinary  com 
bination  of  religious  exaltation  with  aesthetic 
taste. 

A  sympathizing  critic  published  in  the  "Dial" 
(January,  1842)  an  account  of  the  enterprise  as 
it  then  appeared :  — 

The  attempt  is  made  on  a  very  small  scale.  A 
few  individuals  who,  unknown  to  each  other,  under 
different  disciplines  of  life,  reacting  from  different  so 
cial  evils,  but  aiming  at  the  same  object,  —  of  being 
wholly  true  to  their  natures  as  men  and  women,  — 
have  been  made  acquainted  with  one  another,  and 
have  determined  to  become  the  faculty  of  the  embryo 
university. 

In  order  to  live  a  religious  and  moral  life  worthy 
the  name,  they  feel  it  is  necessary  to  come  out  in 
some  degree  from  the  world,  and  to  form  themselves 
into  a  community  of  property,  so  far  as  to  exclude 
competition  and  the  ordinary  rules  of  trade;  while 
they  reserve  sufficient  private  property,  or  the  means 
of  obtaining  it,  for  all  purposes  of  independence  and 
isolation  at  will.  They  have  bought  a  farm  in  order 
to  make  agriculture  the  basis  of  their  life,  it  heiug 


BROOK  FARM.  123 

the  most  direct  and  simple  in  relation  to  nature.  A 
true  life,  although  it  aims  beyond  the  highest  star,  is 
redolent  of  the  healthy  earth.  The  perfume  of  clo 
ver  lingers  about  it.  The  lowing  of  cattle  is  the  nat 
ural  bass  to  the  melody  of  human  voices. 

The  plan  of  the  Community,  as  an  economy,  is,  in 
brief,  this  :  for  all  who  have  property  to  take  stock, 
and  receive  a  fixed  interest  thereon  ;  then  to  keep 
house  or  board  in  common,  as  they  shall  severally  de 
sire,  at  the  cost  of  provisions  purchased  at  wholesale, 
or  raised  on  the  farm  ;  and  for  all  to  labor  in  com 
munity  and  be  paid  at  a  certain  rate  an  hour,  choos 
ing  their  own  number  of  hours  and  their  own  kind 
of  work.  With  the  results  of  this  labor  and  their 
interest  they  are  to  pay  their  board,  and  also  pur 
chase  whatever  else  they  require,  at  cost,  at  the  ware 
houses  of  the  community,  which  are  to  be  filled  by 
the  community  as  such.  To  perfect  this  economy,  in. 
the  course  of  time  they  must  have  all  trades  and  all 
modes  of  business  carried  on  among  themselves,  from 
the  lowest  mechanical  trade  which  contributes  to  the 
health  and  comfort  of  life,  to  the  finest  art.  which 
adorns  it  with  food  or  drapery  for  the  mind.  All 
labor,  whether  bodily  or  intellectual,  is  to  be  paid  at 
the  same  rate  of  wages,  on  the  principle  that,  as  the 
labor  becomes  merely  bodily,  it  is  a  greater  sacrifice 
to  the  individual  laborer  to  give  his  time  to  it ;  be 
cause  time  is  desirable  for  the  cultivation  of  the  intel 
lect,  in  exact  proportion  to  ignorance. 

Besides,  intellectual  labor  involves  in  itself  higher 
pleasures,  and  is  more  its  own  reward,  than  bodily 


124  GEORGE  RIP  LET. 

labor.  Another  reason  for  setting  the  same  pecun 
iary  value  on  every  kind  of  labor  is  to  give  outward 
expression  to  the  great  truth  that  all  labor  is  sacred 
when  done  for  a  common  interest.  Saints  and  phi 
losophers  already  know  this,  but  the  childish  world 
does  not ;  and  very  decided  measures  must  be  taken 
to  equalize  labor  in  the  eyes  of  the  young  of  the 
community,  who  are  not  beyond  the  moral  influences 
of  the  world  without  them.  The  community  will 
have  nothing  done  within  its  precincts  but  what  is 
done  by  its  own  members,  who  stand  all  in  social 
equality :  that  the  children  may  not  "  learn  to  expect 
one  kind  of  service  from  Love  and  Goodwill,  another 
from  the  obligation  of  others  to  render  it,"  a  griev 
ance  of  the  common  society,  stated  by  one  of  the 
associated  mothers  as  destructive  of  the  soul's  sim 
plicity.  Consequently,  as  the  Universal  Education 
will  involve  all  kinds  of  operations  necessary  to  the 
comforts  and  elegances  of  life,  every  associate,  even 
if  he  be  the  digger  of  a  ditch  as  his  highest  accom 
plishment,  will  be  an  instructor  in  that  to  the  young 
members. 

Nor  will  this  elevation  of  bodily  labor  be  liable  to 
lower  the  tone  of  manners  and  refinement  in  the  com 
munity.  The  "children  of  light"  are  not  altogether 
unwise  in  their  generation.  They  have  an  invisible 
but  all-powerful  guard  of  principles.  Minds  incapa 
ble  of  refinement  will  not  be  attracted  into  this  asso 
ciation.  It  is  an  Ideal  Community,  and  only  to  the 
ideally  inclined  will  it  be  attractive  ;  but  these  are  to 
be  found  in  every  rank  of  lift-,  undt-r  every  shadow  of 


BROOK  FARM.  125 

circumstance.  Even  among  the  diggers  of  the  ditch 
are  to  be  found  some  who,  through  religious  cultiva 
tion,  can  look  down  in  meek  superiority  upon  the 
outwardly  refined  and  the  book  learned. 

Besides,  after  becoming  members  of  this  commu 
nity,  none  will  be  engaged  merely  in  bodily  labor. 
The  hours  of  labor  for  the  association  will  be  limited 
by  a  general  law,  and  can  be  curtailed  at  the  will  of 
the  individual  still  more  ;  and  means  will  be  given  to 
all  for  intellectual  improvement,  and  for  social  inter 
course  calculated  to  refine  and  expand.  The  hours 
redeemed  from  labor  by  community  will  not  be  reap- 
plied  to  the  acquisition  of  wealth,  but  to  the  produc 
tion  of  intellectual  good.  This  community  aims  to 
be  rich,  not  in  the  metallic  representation  of  wealth, 
but  in  the  wealth  itself,  which  money  should  repre 
sent,  namely,  Insure  to  live  in  all  the  faculties  of  the 
soul.  As  a  community,  it  will  traffic  with  the  world 
at  large  in  the  products  of  agricultural  labor ;  and  it 
will  sell  education  to  as  many  young  persons  as  can 
be  domesticated  in  the  families,  and  enter  into  the 
common  life  with  their  own  children.  In  the  end  it 
hopes  to  be  enabled  to  provide  not  only  all  the  neces 
saries,  but  all  the  elegances  desirable  for  bodily  and 
for  spiritual  health:  books,  apparatus,  collections  for 
science,  works  of  art,  means  of  beautiful  amusement. 
These  things  are  to  be  common  to  all ;  and  thus  that 
object,  which  alone  gilds  and  refines  the  passion  for 
individual  accumulation  will  no  longer  exist  for  de 
sire,  and,  whenever  the  sordid  passion  appears,  it  will 
be  seen  in  its  naked  selfishness.  In  its  ultimate  sue- 


126  GEORGE  RIFLE  T. 

cess  the  community  will  realize  all  the  ends  which 
selfishness  seeks,  but  involved  in  spiritual  blessings 
which  only  greatness  of  soul  can  aspire  after.  And 
the  requisitions  on  the  individuals,  it  is  believed,  will 
make  this  the  order  forever.  The  spiritual  good  will 
always  be  the  condition  of  the  temporal. 

Every  one  must  labor  for  the  community,  in  a  rea 
sonable  degree,  or  not  taste  its  benefits.  The  prin 
ciples  of  the  organization,  therefore,  and  not  its  prob 
able  results  in  future  time,  will  determine  its  members. 
These  principles  are  cooperation  in  social  matters, 
instead  of  competition  or  balance  of  interests ;  and 
individual  self-unfolding,  in  the  faith  that  the  whole 
soul  of  humanity  is  in  each  man  and  woman.  The 
former  is  the  application  of  the  love  of  man,  the  lat 
ter  of  the  love  of  God,  to  life.  Whoever  is  satis 
fied  with  society  as  it  is,  whose  sense  of  justice  is  not 
wounded  by  its  common  action,  institutions,  spirit  of 
commerce,  has  no  business  with  this  community  ;  nei 
ther  has  any  one  who  is  willing  to  have  other  men 
(needing  more  time  for  intellectual  cultivation  than 
himself)  give  their  best  hours  and  strength  to  bodily 
labor,  to  secure  himself  immunity  therefrom.  And 
whoever  does  not  measure  what  society  owes  to  its 
members,  of  cherishing  and  instruction,  by  the  needs 
of  the  individuals  that  compose  it,  has  no  lot  in  this 
new  society.  Whoever  is  willing  to  receive  from  his 
fellow-men  that  for  which  he  gives  no  equivalent  will 
Btay  away  from  its  precincts  forever.  , 

From  this  extract  it  will  be  seen  that  the  in 


BROOK  FARM.  127 

terests  of  the  higher  education,  the  cultivation 
of  mind  and  soul,  lay  very  near  the  heart  of 
the  noble  founder  of  Brook  Farm.  He  himself 
said  :  "  We  are  a  company  of  teachers.  The 
branch  of  industry  which  we  pursue  as  our 
primary  object  and  chief  means  of  support  is 
teaching."1 

In  regard  to  individual  teachers,  it  is  enough 
to  say  that  Mr.  Ripley  himself  taught  Intellect 
ual  and  Moral  Philosophy  and  Mathematics  ; 
Mrs.  Ripley  was  instructor  in  History  and  Mod 
ern  Languages  ;  George  P.  Bradford  took  the 
department  of  Belles  Lettres  ;  Charles  A.  Dana 
had  classes  in  Greek  and  German ;  John  S. 
Dwight  imparted  knowledge  in  Latin  and  Mu 
sic;  others  were  employed  in  the  primary  and 
infant  schools.  There  was  an  instructor  in 
Drawing ;  a  teacher  also  in  theoretical  and  prac 
tical  Agriculture.  Such  time  as  was  not  occu 
pied  in  teaching  might  be  devoted  to  such  pur 
suits  as  inclination  suggested,  —  farming,  gar 
dening,  the  cultivation  of  trees,  fruits,  flowers, 
or  some  branch  of  domestic  service.  There  was 
always  enough  to  do.  Mr.  Ripley  liked  to  milk 
cows,  saying  that  such  occupation  was  eminently 
favorable  to  contemplation,  particularly  when* 
the  cow's  tail  was  looped  up  behind.  He  would 
also  go  out  in  the  early  morning  and  help  clean 
the  stable,  a  foul  and  severe  task,  which,  it  may 
i  See  Appendix. 


128  GEORGE  RITLEY. 

be  presumed,  be  undertook  by  way  of  illustrat 
ing  tbe  principle  of  self-sacrifice  which  was  at 
the  basis  of  the  experiment.  His  wife  worked 
in  the  laundry  until  the  necessity  of  economiz 
ing  strength  compelled  her  to  resort  to  lighter 
labor,  in  which  her  natural  elegance  and  refine 
ment  of  judgment  were  required.  When  con 
venient,  the  men  did  women's  work ;  the  "  Gen 
eral,"  for  example,  made  all  the  bread  and  cake 
and  some  of  the  pastry.  On  occasion  chiefs  — 
if  such  a  term  may  be  allowed  —  acted  as  wait 
ers  at  table.  Everybody  was  ready  for  any 
needed  or  available  service.  The  place  was  a 
bee-hive.  The  head-farmer  was  hired,  most  of 
the  members  being  literary  men,  unacquainted 
with  the  needs  of  the  soil ;  but.  as  a  rule,  the 
work  was  done  by  members. 

The  establishment  of  the  school  was  imme 
diate.  In  two  years  the  number  of  scholars 
was  about  thirty  in  a  community  of  seventy. 
The  original  pioneers  numbered  about  twenty. 
There  were  never  more  than  one  hundred  and 
fifty.  The  teaching  was  of  a  high  order,  not  so 
much  by  reason  of  the  accomplishment  of  the 
instructors,  as  in  consequence  of  the  singular 
enthusiasm  which  animated  all  concerned  in  it, 
pupils  no  less  than  preceptors.  Especially  in 
music  was  the  standard  of  taste  exacting  what 
ever  may  be  said  of  the  attainment.  The  boys 


BROOK  FARM.  129 

and  girls  at  Brook  Farm  were  familiar  with 
the  compositions  of  Haydn,  Mozart,  Beethoven, 
Mendelssohn,  Schubert,  before  the  initiation 
began  elsewhere.  There  was  a  genuine  passion 
for  improvement  in  intellectual  arts,  a  thirst  for 
knowledge,  a  hunger  for  mental  stimulus  of  a 
powerful  kind.  When  Margaret  Fuller  visited 
the  institution,  and  gave  one  of  her  eloquent, 
oracular  talks,  the  interest  caught  up  old  and 
young.  Miss  Fuller  visited  Brook  Farm,  but 
did  not  live  there ;  neither  did  Emerson ;  nei 
ther  did  W.  H.  Channing  ;  neither  did  Theo 
dore  Parker ;  neither  did  C.  P.  Cranch,  though 
all  came  more  or  less  often,  and  manifested  a 
sincere  interest.  Many  eminent  persons  came 
as  observers  of  the  experiment,  —  Orestes  A. 
Brownson,  James  Walker,  Bronson  Alcott,  and 
others  of  less  note.  The  undertaking  was  so  in 
teresting  that  few  people  who  had  at  heart  the 
condition  of  society  remained  wholly  aloof  from 
it.  The  public  curiosity  was  insatiable.  Dur 
ing  one  year  more  than  four  thousand  visitors 
came.  Every  fine  day  brought  a  crowd.  The 
multitude  became  occasionally  an  incumbrance. 
The  time  of  the  members  was  uncomfortably 
encroached  on  ;  their  occupations  were  dis 
turbed.  It  became  necessary  at  last  to  charge 
a  small  fee  for  their  entertainment  in  case  they 
required  lunch  or  dinner.  Among  the  callers, 


130  GEORGE  RIPLET. 

to  show  how  miscellaneous  were  their  motives, 
was  the  notorious  Mike  Walsh,  who,  it  is  safe 
to  say,  was  not  attracted  by  any  interest  in  the 
higher  problems  of  society.  The  experiment 
was  on  too  small  a  scale  to  engage  the  attention 
of  deeply  theoretical  minds,  or  to  be  widely 
significant.  Charles  Nordhoff,  in  his  history 
of  communistic  societies  in  the  United  States, 
makes  no  mention  of  Brook  Farm.  But  the 
eminence  of  its  founder,  the  high  aims  oMiis 
associates,  the  well-known  sympathy  of  several 
distinguished  people,  the  prevalence  throughout 
the  community  of  views  similar,  at  least,  to 
those  which  animated  the  association,  exerted 
an  influence  far  beyond  its  actual  domain.  It 
•was  the  earthly  base  of  a  celestial  idea ;  a  house 
in  the  clouds  ;  a  "  castle  in  Spain  "  ;  none  the 
less  but  rather  so  much  the  more,  a  castle,  for 
having  its  towers  in  the  sky. 

The  applications  for  admission  were  numer 
ous,  and,  for  the  most  part,  from  people  who 
quite  mistook  the  object  the  founders  had  in 
view.  The  well-to-do  people  of  the  world,  the 
contented,  the  comfortable,  the  ambitious,  the 
successful  who  had  attained,  the  energetic  who 
hoped  to  attain,  the  large  class  of  unthinking, 
conventional  people,  young  or  old,  rich  or  poor, 
educated  or  uneducated,  had  no  concern  with 
und  never  came  near  the  institution.  To  them 


BROOK  FARM.  131 

it  was  a  Utopia,  visionary,  chimerical,  notional, 
absurd,  a  butt  for  ridicule.  But  the  hungry  of 
heart,  the  democratic,  the  aspiring,  the  senti 
mental,  the  poor  in  spirit  or  in  purse,  those 
who  sought  a  refuge  or  a  place  of  rest;  in  some 
instances  those  who  desired  an  easy,  unlabori- 
ous,  irresponsible  life,  knocked  for  admission  at 
the  door.  The  nature  of  these  overtures  can 
readily  be  fancied  by  those  who  may  be  a  little 
acquainted  with  the  working  of  philanthropic 
establishments  ;  but  for  the  benefit  of  such  as 
may  need  enlightenment  on  this  point,  a  few 
letters  are  here  inserted  with  one  of  Mr.  Rip- 
ley's  replies  :  — 

MASS.,  October  12,  1844. 

DEAR  SIR,  —  I  take  the  liberty  of  inquiring  of  you 
whether  you  can  admit  into  your  fraternity  a  literary 
old  man,  aged  fifty-four  years,  who  may  he  able  to 
work  perhaps  six,  eight,  or  ten  hours  per  day.  The 
work  must  be,  at  least  at  first,  somewhat  light,  as  he 
has  never  been  used  to  any  kind  of  manual  labor. 
Of  late  years  his  attention  has  been  so  much  de 
voted  to  association  and  peace  that  he  is  fit  for  but  lit 
tle,  if  any,  of  the  common  business  of  the  world,  out 
of  an  association.  He  will  bring  no  money,  no  funds 
whatever,  and  no  influence  into  your  community. 
He  only  desires  to  be  and  live  and  work  and  coop 
erate  with  others  ;  where  he  can  do  as  he  would  be 
done  by,  and  contribute  his  feeble  example  in  favor 
of  a  better  order  of  society  than  our  present  antag- 
onistical  selfishism. 


132  GEORGE  RIP  LEY. 

By  giving  me  such  information  per  mail  as  you 
may  deem  expedient,  you  will  oblige,  sir, 

Your  obedient  servant 

June  1,  1843. 

; 

DEAR  SIR,  —  I  have  an  earnest  and  well-matured 
desire  to  join  your  community  with  my  family,  if  I 
can  do  it  under  satisfactory  circumstances,  —  I  mean 
satisfactory  to  all  parties.  I  am  pastor  of  the  First 
Congregational  Church  in  this  town.  My  congrega 
tion  is  quiet,  and  in  many  respects  very  pleasant ; 
but  I  have  felt  that  my  views  of  late  are  not  suffi 
ciently  in  accordance  with  the  forms  under  which  I 
have  undertaken  to  conduct  the  ministry  of  Christian 
truth.  This  want  of  accordance  increases,  and  I  feel 
that  a  crisis  is  at  hand.  I  must  follow  the  light  that 
guides  me,  or  renounce  it  to  become  false  and  dead. 
The  latter  I  cannot  do.  I  have  thought  of  joining 
your  association  ever  since  its  commencement.  Is  it 
possible  for  me  to  do  so  under  satisfactory  circum 
stances  ? 

I  have  deep,  and  I  believe  intelligent  sympathy 
with  your  idea.  I  have  a  wife  and  four  children,  the 
oldest  ten,  the  youngest  seven  years  old.  Our  habits 
of  life  are  very  simple,  very  independent  of  slavery 
to  the  common  forms  of  "gigmanity,"  and  our  bodies 
have  not  been  made  to  waste  and  pine  by  the  fashion 
able  follies  of  this  generation.  It  is  our  creed  that 
life  is  greater  than  all  forms,  and  that  the  soul's  life 
is  diviner  than  the  conveniences  of  fashion. 

As  to  property  we  can  bring  you  little  more  than 


BROOK  FARM.  133 

ourselves.  But  we  can  bring  a  hearty  good-will  to 
work,  and  in  work  we  have  some  skill.  I  have  un 
impaired  health,  and  an  amount  of  muscular  strength, 
beyond  what  ordinarily  falls  to  the  lot  of  mortals.  In 
the  early  part  of  my  life  I  labored  on  a  farm,  filling 
up  my  leisure  time  with  study,  until  I  entered  my 
present  profession.  My  hands  have  some  skill  for 
many  things  ;  and  if  I  join  you  I  wish  to  live  a  true 
life.  My  selfish  aims  are  two :  first,  I  wish  to  be 
under  circumstances  where  I  may  live  truly ;  and 
second  and  chiefly  I  wish  to  do  the  best  thing  for  my 
children. 

Be  so  good  as  to  reply  to  this  at  your  earliest  con 
venience.  Yours,  sincerely.  

WATERTOWN,  February  4,  1843. 

MESSRS.  OF  THE  COMMUNITY  AT  WEST  Rox- 
BURY,  —  I  am  induced  to  address  you  partly  at  the 
request  of  several  gentlemen  who  have  formed  an 
association  in  this  place  for  the  purpose  of  inquiring 
into  the  principles  of  Fourier's  plan  for  meliorating 
the  condition  of  the  human  race,  and  also  from  an 
intense  anxiety  on  my  own  part  to  know  the  practi 
cal  working  of  the  plan  which  you  have  adopted  in 
your  community,  and  which  is  said  in  the  public  pa 
pers  to  resemble,  if  not  exactly  to  carry  out  in  detail, 
the  one  recommended  by  the  above  mentioned  writer. 

If  you  will  have  the  goodness  to  answer  the  fol 
lowing  interrogatories,  you  will  not  only  confer  a 
favor  on  myself  and  those  gentlemen  who  are  now 
investigating  this  subject  in  this  place,  but,  by  giving 


134  GEORGE  R1PLEY. 

such  information  as  is  the  result  of  your  experience, 
I  trust  you  will  aid  the  cause  of  the  poor  and  op 
pressed,  and  he  instrumental  in  mitigating  the  mise 
ries  and  afflictions  of  all  conditions  and  classes  of 
men  :  How  long  since  you  first  organized  your  soci 
ety  ?  How  many  associates  were  there  at  first? 
What  was  the  average  amount  in  money  or  property 
that  each  one  contributed  to  commence  with  ?  Of 
how  many  acres  does  your  farm  consist  ?  What  was 
the  cost  per  acre  and  the  terms  of  payment?  If  pur 
chased  on  time,  have  you  been  able,  from  the  pro 
ceeds  of  your  farm  and  other  products  of  your  own 
industry,  to  sustain  the  society  and  meet  the  payments 
as  they  became  due  ?  What  is  the  present  number 
of  persons  in  your  association,  and  in  what  ratio  have 
they  increased?  Do  you  have  many  applications  for 
admission,  and  what  are  the  qualifications  requisite 
for  an  associate,  either  in  a  moral,  intellectual,  or 
pecuniary  point  of  view  ?  In  the  present  state  of 
things,  do  you  think  it  necessary  to  success  that  such 
a  community  as  yours  should  be  located  near  a  large 
town  or  city  ?  Have  any  become  dissatisfied  and 
withdrawn  from  your  community,  and,  in  case  they 
do  leave,  are  they  allowed  to  take  the  capital  they  in 
vested  and  their  earnings  ?  According  to  your  regu- 
ations,  can  you  expel  a  member?  Have  you  a  writ 
ten  constitution,  and,  if  so,  what  are  its  most  promi 
nent  features  ?  Does  each  member  choose  his  or  her 
employ  men  t.  and  work  at  it  when  they  please  ?  Have 
you  any  particular  system  for  educating  the  children 
who  belong  to  your  community  ?  Do  you  intend  to 


BROOK  FARM.  135 

give  them  what  is  generally  termed  a  classical  educa 
tion  ?  Have  you  a  common  fund,  and,  if  so,  how  is 
it  raised,  and  how  are  the  persons  chosen  who  con 
trol  it  ?  Do  you  all  eat  at  a  common  table,  and,  if 
so,  could  a  family  or  an  individual,  if  they  preferred 
it,  have  their  meals  in  apartments  by  themselves  ? 
Do  you  think  a  sufficient  time  has  elapsed  since  the 
formation  of  your  society  for  you  or  others  to  judge 
tolerably  correctly  of  the  utility  of  such  associations, 
by  your  experiment  ? 

Gentlemen,  we  can,  of  course,  expect  only  brief 
answers  to  these  inquiries ;  but  we  trust  you  will  do 
us  the  justice  to  believe  that  we  are  actuated  by  no 
idle  curiosity  in  thus  seeking  information. 

UTICA,  January  18,  1844. 

SIR,  —  I  have  the  happiness  of  being  acquainted 
with  a  lady  who  has  some  knowledge  of  you,  from 
whose  representations  I  am  encouraged  to  hope  that 
you  will  not  only  excuse  the  liberty  I  (being  a  stran 
ger)  thus  take  in  addressing  you,  but  will  also  kindly 
answer  a  number  of  questions  I  am  desirous  of  being 
informed  upon,  relative  to  the  society  for  social  re 
form  to  which  you  belong. 

I  have  a  daughter  (having  five  children),  who  with 
her  husband  much  wish  to  join  a  society  of  this  kind: 
they  have  had  thoughts  of  engaging  with  a  society 
now  forming  in  Rochester,  but  their  friends  advise 
them  to  go  to  one  that  has  been  some  time  in  opera 
tion,  because  those  connected  with  it  will  be  able  to 
:<peak  with  certainty  as  to  whether  the  working  of 
the  system  in  any  way  realizes  the  theory. 


136  GEORGE  RIFLE T. 

1.  The  first  question  I  would  put  is,   Have  you 
room  in  your  association  to  admit  the  above  family  ? 

2.  And  if  so,  upon  what  terms  would  they  be  re 
ceived  ? 

3.  Would  a  piano-forte,  which  two  years  ago  cost 
$350,  be  taken  at  its  present  value  in  payment  for 
shares  ? 

4.  Would  any  household  furniture  be  taken  in  the 
same  way  ? 

5.  Do  you  carry  out  M.  Fourier's  idea  of  diversity 
of  employment  ? 

6.  How  many  members  have  you  at  this  time? 

7.  Do    the    people,   generally    speaking,    appear 
happy ? 

8.  Would  a  young  man,  a  mechanic,  of  unexcep 
tional  character,  be  received,  having  no  capital  ? 

9.  Does  the  system  work  well  with  the  children  ? 

10.  Have  you  not  more  than  one  church,  and,  if 
BO,  what  are  its  tenets  ? 

11.  Have    parties   opportunities   of   enjoying  any 
other  religion  ? 

12.  What  number  of  hours  are  generally  employed 
in  labor? 

13.  What  chance  for  study  ? 

14.  Do  you   meet  with  society  suitable   to  your 
taste  ? 

Although  my  questions  are  so  numerous  that  I  fear 
tiring  you,  yet  I  still  feel  that  I  may  have  omitted 
tome  inquiry  of  importance.  If  so,  will  you  do  me 
the  favor  to  supply  the  deficiency  ? 

Please  to  answer  my  questions  by  number,  as  they 


BROOK  FARM.  137 

are  put.  Hoping  you  will  write  as  soon  as  possible, 
I  remain  yours  respectfully. 

BOSTON,  Feb.  ihe  13.  1844. 

Sun,  —  As  I  have  hurd  something  About  the  sade 
broofarm,  I  thuirfore  take  the  Pleasure  of  wrighting 
A  fue  lines  to  you  dear  sur,  to  inform  you  sur  of  my 
mind  about  the  sade  place.  I  think  sur  that  I  should 
like  to  joine  you  boath  in  hart  and  hand.  I  am  now 
stopping  at  the  united  states  hotell  boston,  thair  is 
one  Mr.  thomas  Whitch  is  going  with  you  in  Apr. 
next  he  is  a  friend  of  mine  I.  think  I.  would  like 
to  go  with  him  if  I.  could  I.  am  tiard  of  liveing  in 
the  city  I.  would  like  to  change  my  life  if  I.  could 
be  of  any  service  to  you  in  brookfarm  I.  think  I.  d 
like  to  Join  you  and  do  all  in  my  power  to  premote 
the  cause.  I.  would  like  to  know  the  rules  of  the 
community  if  you  sur  Wright  a  fue  lines  to  me  and 
direct  them  to  the  united  states  hotell  I.  would  be 
very  happy  to  recive.  indeed  I.  think  I.  would  like 
to  work  on  the  farm  this  summer  I  should  like  to 
know  what  I  should  be  alowed  the  first  year.  I. 
would  like  to  lurn  some  trade  in  the  winter.  I.  am 

single  my  age  is  19.  my  name I  hope  sur  that 

you  may  soon  wright  me  a  letter  Whare  I.  may  have 
the  pleashure  of  seeing  you  soon.  I.  have  more  to 
tay  sur  when  I  see  you.  I.  would  like  to  see  you 
this  week  if  possible.  F.  F.  C.,  Boston. 

I  will  try  to  come  out  with  my  friend  in  the  course 
of  a  week  or  two  if  I.  do  not  see  you  before,  but 
please  wright  me  a  letter  if  I  do  not  see  you. 


138  GEORGE  RIPLEY. 

BOSTON,  March  1,  1844. 

MR.  GEORGE  RirLEY,  Pres.  of  the  west  roxli-y  asso 
ciation  : 

as  I  wish  to  goin  your  society  and  not  knoing 
the  termes  on  wich  members  are  admited  I  wish  to 
be  informed  and  the  amount  wich  must  be  p;iid  in. 
thare  is  six  in  the  famely  and  as  I  am  poor  I  wish  to 
know  the  least  sum  wich  we  can  be  admited  for.  if 
you  will  plt'aze  to  write  and  inform  mee  of  the  pertic- 
ulars  you  will  oblige  your  humble  servent, 

July  13,  1845. 

DEAR  SIR,  —  "Will  you  step  aside  for  a  moment 
from  the  many  duties,  the  interesting  cares,  and  soul- 
stirring  pleasures  of  your  enviable  situation  and  read 
a  few  lines  from  a  stranger  ?  They  come  to  you  not 
from  the  cold  and  sterile  regions  of  the  north,  nor 
from  the  luxuriant,  yet  untamed  wilds  of  the  west, 
but  from  the  bright  and  sunny  land  where  cotton 
flowers  bloom ;  where  nature  has  placed  her  signet 
of  beauty  and  fertility.  Yes,  sir,  the  science  that 
the  immortal  Fourier  brought  to  light  has  reached  the 
far  south,  and  I  trust  has  warmed  many  hearts  and 
interested  many  minds ;  but  of  one  alone  will  I  write. 
It  is  to  me  a  dawn  of  a  brighter  day  than  has  ever 
yet  risen  upon  the  world  —  a  day  when  man  shall  be 
redeemed  from  his  more  than  "  Egyptian  bondage," 
and  stand  erect  in  moral,  intellectual,  and  physical 
beauty.  I  have  lived  forty  years  in  the  world,  and 
divided  that  time  between  the  Eastern,  Middle,  and 
Southern  States ;  have  seen  life  as  exhibited  in  citj 


BROOK  FARM.  139 

and  country  ;  have  mingled  with  the  most  intelligent 
and  with  the  unlettered  rustic ;  have  marked  society 
in  a  variety  of  phases,  and  find  amid  all  that  self 
ishness  has  warped  the  judgment,  chilled  the  affec 
tions,  and  blunted  all  the  fine  feelings  of  the  soul. 
I  am  weary  and  worn  with  the  heartless  folly,  the 
wicked  vanity,  and  shameless  iniquity  which  the 
civilized  world  everywhere  presents.  Long  have  I 
sighed  for  something  higher,  nobler,  holier  than  aught 
found  in  this  world  ;  and  have  sometimes  longed  to 
lay  my  body  down  where  the  weary  rest,  that  my 
spirit  might  dwell  in  perfect  harmony.  But  since 
the  beautiful  science  of  amity  has  dawned  upon  my 
mind,  my  heart  has  loved  to  cherish  the  bright  antic 
ipations  of  hope,  and  I  see  in  the  dim  distance  the 
realization  of  all  my  wishes.  I  see  a  generation 
coming  on  the  arena  of  action,  bearing  on  their  brows 
the  impress  of  their  noble  origin,  and  cultivating  in 
their  hearts  the  pure  and  exalted  feelings  that  should 
ever  distinguish  those  who  bear  the  image  of  their 
Maker.  Association  is  destined  to  do  much  for  poor 
suffering  humanity:  to  elevate,  refine,  redeem  the 
race  and  restore  the  purity  and  love  that  made  the 
bowers  of  Eden  so  surpassingly  beautiful. 

You,  sir,  and  your  associates  are  pioneers  in  a 
noble  reform.  May  the  blessing  of  God  attend  you. 
I  am  anxious  to  be  with  you  for  various  reasons.  The 
first  is,  I  have  two  little  daughters  whom  I  wish  to 
bring  up  amid  healthful  influences,  with  healthy  and 
untrammeled  bodies,  pure  minds,  and  all  their  young 
affections  and  sympathies  clustering  around  their 


140  GEORGE  RIPLET. 

hearts.  I  never  wish  their  minds  to  be  under  the  in 
fluence  of  the  god  of  this  generation  —  fashion  ;  nor 
their  hearts  to  become  callous  to  the  sufferings  of 
their  fellows.  I  never  wish  them  to  regard  labor  as 
degrading,  nor  poverty  as  a  crime.  Situated  as  I  am 
I  cannot  rear  them  in  health  and  purity,  and  there 
fore  I  am  anxious  to  remove  them  from  the  baneful 
influences  that  surround  them.  I  look  upon  labor  as 
a  blessing,  and  feel  that  every  man  and  woman  should 
spend  some  portion  of  each  day  in  healthful  employ 
ment.  It  is  absolutely  necessary  to  my  health,  and  is 
also  a  source  of  enjoyment  even  in  isolation  ;  how 
much  would  that  pleasure  be  increased  could  I  have 
several  kindred  spirits  around  me  with  whom  I  could 
interchange  thoughts,  and  whose  feelings  and  desires 
flow  in  the  same  channel  as  my  own. 

Oh,  sir,  I  must  live,  labor,  arid  die  in  association. 
Again  my  heart  is  pained  with  the  woes  of  my  fel 
lows  ;  with  the  distressing  poverty  and  excessive  labor 
uhich  arc  bearing  to  the  grave  a  portion  of  the  human 
family.  Gladly  would  I  bear  my  part  in  raising  them 
to  a  higher  and  happier  condition  ;  and  how  can  I  bet 
ter  do  this  than  by  uniting  myself  with  the  noble  re 
formers  of  Brook  Farm,  where  caste  is  thrown  aside 
and  rich  and  poor  constitute  but  one  family.  I  have 
not  a  large  fortune,  but  sufficient  to  live  comfortably 
any  where.  A  large  part  of  it  is  now  vested  in  houses 
and  lands  in  Georgia.  Such  is  the  low  price  of  cot 
ton  that  real  estate  cannot  be  sold  at  this  time  with 
out  a  ruinous  sacrifice.  Most  of  my  Georgia  prop 
erty  rents  for  more  than  the  interest  of  its  cost  at 


BROOK  FARM.  141 

sight  per  cent.  I  have  also  houses  and  lands  in  this 
state,  but  cannot  for  the  above-named  reasons  find  a 
purchaser.  Therefore  if  I  go  to  the  Association  I 
shall  be  obliged  to  leave  some  of  my  possessions  un 
sold,  and  be  content  to  receive  the  rent  until  I  can 
effect  a  sale.  I  have  no  negroes,  thank  God.  Now 
if  you  are  not  full  at  Brook  Farm,  and  do  not  object 
to  myself,  wife,  and  two  daughters,  one  four  years, 
the  other  six  months  old  —  presenting  ourselves  as 
candidates  for  admission,  and  $2,500  or  $3,000  will 
be  sufficient  for  an  initiation  fee,  I  shall,  as  soon  as 
I  can  arrange  my  affairs,  be  with  you.  I  will  thank 
you  to  write  me,  informing  me  with  how  much  ready 
cash,  with  an  income  of  $500  or  $600  per  year,  I 

can  be  received.     Mrs. and  myself  will  wish  to 

engage  daily  in  labor.  We  both  labored  in  our 
youth  ;  we  wish  to  resume  it  again. 

Dear  Friends,  if  I  may  so  call  you.  I  read  in  the 
"New  York  Tribune"  a  piece  taken  from  the 
"  Dial,"  headed  the  West  Roxbury  Community. 
Now  what  I  want  to  know  is,  can  I  and  my  children 
be  admitted  into  your  society,  and  be  better  off  than 
we  are  here  ?  I  have  enough  of  the  plainest  kind  to 
eat  and  wear  here.  I  have  no  home  but  what  we 
hire  from  year  to  year.  I  have  no  property  but  mov 
ables,  and  not  a  cent  to  spare  when  the  year  comes 
round.  I  have  three  children  :  two  boys  and  a  girl ; 
the  oldest  fourteen,  the  youngest  nine  ;  now  I  want 
to  educate  them  —  how  to  do  it  where  there  is  no 
chance  but  ordinary  schools,  —  to  move  into  the  vil- 


142  GEORGE  RIPLEY. 

lage,  I  could  not  bring  the  year  round,  and  the  dan 
ger  they  would  be  exposed  to  without  a  father  to 
restrain  their  wanderings  would  be  undertaking  more 
than  I  dare  attempt.  Now,  if  you  should  presume 
to  let  me  come,  where  can  I  live  ?  Can  our  indus 
try  and  economy  clothe  and  feed  us  for  the  year  ? 
Can  I  keep  a  cow  ?  How  can  I  be  supplied  with  fire 
in  that  dear  place,  how  can  I  pay  my  school  bills, 
and  how  can  I  find  all  the  necessary  requisites  for  my 
children  to  advance  in  learning  ?  If  I  should  wish  to 
leave  in  two,  three,  or  five  years,  could  I  and  mine, 
if  I  paid  my  way  whilst  there  ?  If  you  should  let 
me  come,  and  I  should  think  best  to  go,  how  shall  1 
get  there,  what  would  be  my  best  and  cheapest  route, 
how  should  I  proceed  with  what  I  have  here — sell 
all  off  or  bring  a  part  ?  I  have  three  beds  and  bed 
ding,  one  cow,  and  ordinary  things  enough  to  keep 
house.  My  children  are  called  tolerable  scholars  ; 
my  daughter  is  the  youngest.  The  neighbors  call 
her  an  uninteresting  child.  1  have  no  pretensions  to 
make  ;  my  only  object  is  to  enjoy  the  good  of  the 
society,  and  have  my  children  educated  and  accom 
plished. 

Am  I  to  send  my  boys  off  to  work  alone,  or  will 
they  have  a  kind  friend  to  say,  Come,  boys  ;  and  teach 
them  how  in  love  and  good  will,  and  relieve  me  of 
this  heavy  task  of  bringing  up  boys  with  nothing  to 
do  it  with  ?  If  your  religion  has  a  name  I  should 
like  well  enough  to  know  it ;  if  not,  and  the  sub 
stance  is  love  to  God  and  good  will  to  man,  my  mind 
is  well  enough  satisfied.  I  have  reflected  upon  this 


BROOK  FARM.  143 

subject  ever  since  I  read  the  article  alluded  to,  and 
now  I  want  you  to  write  me  every  particular.  Then^ 
if  you  and  I  think  best  in  the  spring,  I  will  come  to 
you.  We  are  none  of  us  what  can  be  called  weakly. 
I  am  forty-six  years  old,  able  to  do  as  much  every 
day  as  to  spin  what  is  called  a  day's  work.  Not  that 
I  expect  you  spin  much  there,  only  that  is  the  amount 
of  my  strength  as  it  now  holds  out.  I  should  wish 
to  seek  intelligence,  which,  as  you  must  know,  I  lack 
greatly  ;  and  I  cannot  endure  the  thought  that  my 
children  must  lack  as  greatly,  while  multitudes  are 
going  so  far  in  advance,  no  better  qualified  by  nature 
than  they.  I  want  you  to  send  me  quite  a  number 
of  names  of  your  leading  characters ;  if  it  should 
seem  strange  to  you  that  I  make  the  demand  I  will 
explain  it  to  you  when  I  get  there.  I  want  you  to 
answer  every  item  of  this  letter,  and  as  much  more 
as  can  have  any  bearing  on  my  mind  either  way. 
Whether  you  accept  this  letter  kindly  or  not,  I  want 
you  to  write  me  an  answer  without  delay.  Are  there 
meetings  for  us  to  attend?  Do  you  have  singing 
schools  ?  I  do  thus  far  feel  friendly  to  your  society. 
Direct  my  letter  to  New  York  — 

To  the  leading  members  of  the  Roxbury  Commu 
nity,  near  Boston. 

DEATI  SIR,  —  It  gives  me  the  most  sincere  pleas 
ure  to  reply  to  the  inquiries  proposed  in  your  favor 
of  the  31st  instant.  I  welcome  the  extended  and 
increasing  interest  which  is  manifested  in  our  appar 
ently  humble  enterprise,  as  a  proof  that  it  is  founded 


144  GEORGE  RIPLEY. 

in  nature  and  truth,  and  as  a  cheering  omen  of  its 
ultimate  success.  Like  yourself,  we  are  seekers  of 
universal  truth.  We  worship  only  reality.  We  are 
striving  to  establish  a  mode  of  life  which  shall  com 
bine  the  enchantments  of  poetry  with  the  facts  of  daily 
experience.  This  we  believe  can  be  done  by  a  rigid 
adherence  to  justice,  by  fidelity  to  human  rights,  by 
loving  and  honoring  man  as  man,  by  rejecting  all  ar 
bitrary,  factitious  distinctions.  We  are  not  in  the 
interest  of  any  sect,  party,  or  coterie ;  we  have  faith 
in  the  soul  of  man,  in  the  universal  soul  of  things. 
Trusting  to  the  might  of  benignant  Providence  which 
is  over  all,  we  are  here  sowing  in  weakness  a  seed 
which  will  be  raised  in  power.  But  I  need  not  dwell 
on  these  general  considerations,  with  which  you  are 
doubtless  familiar. 

In  regard  to  the  connection  of  a  family  with  us,  our 
arrangements  are  liberal  and  comprehensive.  We 
are  not  bound  by  fixed  rules  which  apply  to  all  cases. 
One  general  principle  we  are  obliged  to  adhere  to 
rigidly  :  not  to  receive  any  person  who  would  increase 
the  expenses  more  than  the  revenue  of  the  establish 
ment.  Within  the  limits  of  this  principle  we  can 
make  any  arrangement  which  shall  suit  particular 
cases. 

A  family  with  resources  sufficient  for  self-support, 
independent  of  the  exertion  of  its  members,  would 
find  a  favorable  situation  with  us  for  the  education 
of  its  children  and  for  social  enjoyment.  An  annual 
payment  of  $1,000  would  probably  cover  the  ex 
peuses  of  board  and  instruction,  supposing  that  no 


BROOK  FARM.  145 

services  were  rendered  to  diminish  the  expense.  An 
investment  of  $5,000  would  more  than  meet  the  orig 
inal  outlay  required  for  a  family  of  eight  persons  ; 
but  in  that  case  an  additional  appropriation  would  be 
needed,  either  of  productive  labor  or  of  cash  to  meet 
the  current  expenditures.  I  forward  you  herewith  a 
copy  of  our  Prospectus,  from  which  you  will  perceive 
that  the  whole  expense  of  a  pupil  with  us,  including 
board  in  vacations,  is  $250  per  annum  ;  but  in  case 
of  one  or  more  pupils  remaining  with  us  for  a  term 
of  years,  and  assisting  in  the  labors  of  the  establish 
ment,  a  deduction  of  one  or  two  dollars  per  week 
would  be  made,  according  to  the  services  rendered, 
until  such  time  as,  their  education  being  so  far  com 
pleted,  they  might  defray  all  their  expenses  by  their 
labor.  In  the  case  of  your  son  fifteen  years  of  age,  it 
would  be  necessary  for  him  to  reside  with  us  for  threo 
months,  at  least,  on  the  usual  terms ;  and  if,  at  the 
end  of  that  time,  his  services  should  be  found  useful, 
he  might  continue  by  paying  $150  or  $200  per  an 
num,  according  to  the  value  of  his  labors  ;  and  if  he 
should  prove  to  have  a  gift  for  active  industry,  in 
process  of  time  he  might  defray  his  whole  expenses, 
complete  his  education,  and  be  fitted  for  practical  life. 
With  the  intelligent  zeal  which  you  manifest  in  our 
enterprise,  I  need  not  say  that  we  highly  value  your 
sympathy,  and  should  rejoice  in  any  arrangement 
which  might  bring  us  into  closer  relations.  It  is  only 
from  the  faith  and  love  of  those  whose  hearts  are 
filled  with  the  hopes  of  a  better  future  for  humanity 
that  we  look  for  the  building  up  of  our  "  city  of  God." 
10 


146  GEORGE  RIPLEY. 

So  far  we  have  been  prospered  in  our  highest  ex 
pectations.  We  are  more  and  more  convinced  of  the 
beauty  and  justice  of  our  mode  of  life.  AVe  love  to 
breathe  this  pure,  healthy  atmosphere  ;  we  feel  that 
we  are  living  in  the  bosom  of  Nature,  and  all  things 
seem  to  expand  under  the  freedom  and  truth  which 
we  worship  in  our  hearts. 

I  should  regret  to  think  that  this  was  to  be  our  last 
communication  with  each  other.  May  I  not  hope  to 
hear  from  you  Mgain  ?  And  with  the  sincere  wish 
that  your  views  of  the  philosophy  of  life  may  bring 
you  still  nearer  to  us,  I  am,  with  great  respect, 
Sincerely  your  friend, 

GEO.  RIPLET. 

This  will  serve  to  give  an  idea  of  Mr.  Rip- 
ley's  personal  faith  in  the  enterprise  he  had  un 
dertaken.  The  letter  which  follows  is  of  similar 
purport.  With  him,  as  with  his  comrades,  the 
enthusiasm  was  genuine  and  noble,  the  fruit  of 
highest  sentiment  and  serenest  faith,  —  never 
gushing  or  windy,  but  calm,  steady,  luminous, 
and  all  the  more  penetrating  because  reposing 
on  moral  principles.  Page  after  page  of  his 
note-books  is  filled  with  close  calculations  re 
specting  the  capacity  of  land  for  tillage :  so 
much  corn  to  the  acre,  so  much  grain,  so  much 
clover,  so  much  grass,  fodder,  root,  potato,  veg 
etable,  —  all  showing  how  practical  was  his  en 
thusiasm. 


BROOK  FARM.  147 

MY  DEAR  SIR,  —  I  thank  you  for  sending  me  the 
circular  calling  a  convention  at  Skeneateles  for  the 
promotion  of  the  community  movement.  I  have  just 
enjoyed  a  short  visit  from  Mr.  Collins,  who  explained 
to  me  very  fully  the  purposes  of  the  enterprise,  and 
described  the  advantages  of  the  situation  which  had 
been  selected  as  the  scene  of  the  initiatory  experi 
ment.  I  hardly  need  to  say  that  the  movers  in  this 
noble  effort  have  my  warmest  sympathy,  and  that  if 
circumstances  permitted  I  would  not  deprive  myself 
of  the  privilege  of  being  present  at  their  delibera 
tions.  I  am,  however,  just  now  so  involved  in  cares 
and  labors  that  I  could  not  be  absent  for  so  long  a 
time  without  neglect  of  duty. 

Although  my  present  strong  convictions  are  in 
favor  of  cooperative  association  rather  than  of  com 
munity  of  property,  I  look  with  an  indescribable  in 
terest  on  every  attempt  to  redeem  society  from  its 
corruptions.  The  evils  arising  from  trade  and  money, 
it  appears  to  me,  grow  out  of  the  defects  of  our  social 
organization,  not  from  an  intrinsic  vice  in  the  things 
themselves ;  and  the  abolition  of  private  property,  I 
fear,  would  so  far  destroy  the  independence  of  the 
individual  as  to  interfere  with  the  great  object  of  all 
social  reforms  ;  namely,  the  development  of  human 
ity,  the  substitution  of  a  race  of  free,  noble,  holy  men 
and  women  instead  of  the  dwarfish  and  mutilated 
S.  specimens  which  now  cover  the  earth.  The  great 
problem  is  to  guarantee  individualism  against  the 
masses  on  the  one  hand,  and  the  masses  against  the 
individual  on  the  other. 


148  GEORGE  RIPLEY. 

In  society  as  now  organized  the  many  are  slaves  tc 
a  few  favored  individuals  in  a  community.  I  should 
dread  the  bondage  of  the  individual  to  the  power  of 
the  masses  ;  while  association,  by  identifying  the  in 
terests  of  the  many  and  the  few,  the  less  gifted  and 
the  highly  gifted,  secures  the  sacred  personality  of 
all,  gives  to  each  individual  the  largest  liberty  of  the 
children  of  God.  Such  are  my  present  views,  sub 
ject  to  any  modification  which  farther  light  may  pro 
duce.  Still  I  consider  the  great  question  of  the  means 
of  human  regeneration  yet  open  ;  indeed  hardly 
touched  as  yet,  and  Heaven  forbid  that  I  should  not 
at  least  give  you  my  best  wishes  for  the  success  of 
your  important  enterprise.  In  our  own  little  Asso 
ciation  we  practically  adopt  many  community  ele 
ments.  We  are  eclectics  and  learners ;  but  day  by 
day  increases  our  faith  and  joy  in  the  principle  of 
combined  industry,  and  of  bearing  each  other's  bur 
dens  instead  of  seeking  every  man  his  own.  It  will 
give  me  great  pleasure  to  hear  from  you  whenever 
you  may  have  anything  to  communicate  interesting 
to  the  general  movement.  I  feel  that  all  who  are 
seeking  the  emancipation  of  man  are  brothers, 
though  differing  in  the  measures  which  they  may 
adopt  for  that  purpose.  And  from  our  different 
points  of  view  it  is  not  perhaps  presumption  to  hope 
that  we  may  aid  each  other  by  faithfully  reporting 
the  aspects  of  earth  and  sky  as  they  pass  before  our 
field  of  vision.  One  danger,  of  which  no  doubt  you 
are  aware,  proceeds  from  the  growing  interest  in  tho 
subject ;  and  that  is,  the  crowd  of  converts  who  de- 


BROOK  FARM.  149 

sire  to  help  themselves  rather  than  to  help  the  move 
ment.  It  is  as  true  now  as  it  was  of  old,  that  he 
who  would  follow  this  new  Messiah  must  deny  him 
self,  and  take  up  his  cross  daily,  or  he  cannot  enter 
the  promised  kingdom.  The  path  of  transition  is 
always  covered  with  thorns,  and  marked  with  the 
bleeding  feet  of  the  faithful.  This  truth  must  not 
be  covered  up  in  describing  the  paradise  for  which 
we  hope.  We  must  drink  the  water  of  Marah  in  the 
desert,  that  others  may  feed  on  the  grapes  of  Eshcol. 
We  must  depend  on  the  power  of  self-sacrifice  in  man, 
not  on  appeals  to  his  selfish  nature,  for  the  success  of 
our  efforts.  We  should  hardly  be  willing  to  accept 
of  men  or  money  unless  called  for  by  earnest  convic 
tions  that  they  are  summoned  by  a  divine  voice.  I 
wish  to  hear  less  said  to  capitalists  about  a  profitable 
investment  of  their  funds,  as  if  the  holy  cause  of  hu 
manity  was  to  be  speeded  onward  by  the  same  force 
which  constructs  railroads  and  ships  of  war.  Rather 
preach  to  the  rich,  "  Sell  all  that  you  have  and  give 
to  the  poor,  and  you  shall  have  treasure  in  heaven." 

To  the  ordinary  members  of  the  Association 
the  daily  life  was  both  stimulating  and  enter 
taining.  They  had  amusements  in  plenty. 
There  was  an  Amusement  Group,  whose  busi 
ness  it  was  to  enliven  the  leisure  hours  with 
charades,  tableaux,  dances,  picnics,  theatricals, 
readings,  games,  diversions  in  the  woods  or  in 
the  house.  Hawthorne  describes  a  picnic  party 
at  Brook  Farm,  in  which  the  grass,  vines,  trees, 


150  GEORGE  RIP  LET. 

houses,  cattle,  gypsies,  fortune-tellers,  negroes, 
were  combined  picturesquely  with  the  fanciful 
dresses  of  the  more  elegant  spectators.  "  The 
household,"  he  remarks,  "  being  composed  in 
great  measure  of  children  and  young  people,  is 
generally  a  cheerful  one  enough  even  in  gloomy 
weather."  "  It  would,"  he  says,  "  be  difficult 
to  conceive  beforehand  how  much  can  be  added 
to  the  enjoyment  of  a  household  by  mere  sun- 
niness  of  temper  and  liveliness  of  disposition." 
We  may  add  that  sunniness  of  temper  became 
habitual  and  permanent,  the  exasperating  causes 
of  friction,  so  constant  in  ordinary  existence, 
being  removed.  The  innocent  freedom  of  Brook 
Farm  was  stimulating  to  good-humor,  and  con 
ducive  to  happy  conditions  of  mind.  A  writer 
in  "The  Atlantic  Monthly"  of  October,  1878, 
—  a  lady  of  much  refinement,  a  good  observer 
and  a  frank  narrator,  —  sums  up  her  experi 
ence  in  these  words  :  "  Naturally  exclusive  and 
fastidious,  a  spell  was  woven  around  me  which 
entered  into  my  very  heart,  and  led  me  to  nobler 
and  higher  thoughts  than  the  world  ever  gave 
me."  Margaret  Fuller  was  at  first  annoyed  by 
the  apparent  rudeness  of  behavior,  but  was 
afterwards  affected  by  the  simplicity  and  sin 
cerity  she  saw  everywhere  about  her.  "  The 
first  day  or  two  here,"  she  wrote,  "is  desolate. 
You  seem  to  belong  to  nobody.  But  very  soon 


BROOK  FARM.  151 

yon  learn  to  take  care  of  yourself,  and  the  free 
dom  of  the  place  is  delightful."  At  one  of  her 
conversations  she  was  disturbed  by  the  care 
less  ways  of  the  listeners.  "  The  people  showed 
a  good  deal  of  the  sans  culotte  tendency  in 
their  manner,  throwing  themselves  on  the  floor, 
yawning,  and  going  out  when  they  had  heard 
enough.  Yet,  as  the  majority  differ  from  me 
to  begin  with,  —  that  being  the  reason  the  sub 
ject  (education)  was  chosen,  — they  showed,  on 
the  whole,  more  respect  and  interest  than  I  had 
expected."  A  year  later  she  finds  "  the  tone 
of  society  much  sweeter.  .  .  .  There  is  a  per 
vading  spirit  of  mutual  tolerance  with  great 
sincerity.  There  is  no  longer  a  passion  for 
grotesque  freaks  of  liberty,  but  a  disposition 
rather  to  study  and  enjoy  the  liberty  of  law." 
Her  tribute  to  the  consistent  dignity  of  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  Ripley  accords  with  the  uniform  testimony 
of  all  who  had  knowledge  of  the  institution. 

To  understand  the  spirit  of  Brook  Farm,  as 
it  was  illustrated  in  its  details,  one  should  read 
the  articles  in  "The  Atlantic  Monthly  "  for 
1878,  and  in  "  Old  and  New "  for  February, 
April,  and  September,  1871,  and  May,  1872. 
Should  Dr.  J.  T.  Codman,  of  Boston,  publish 
his  "  Recollections,"  all  who  are  interested  in 
the  minute  circumstances  of  the  undertaking 
will  have  their  curiosity  abundantly  gratified. 


152  GEORGE  RIP  LET. 

The  literature  of  Brook  Farm  is  scattered,  but 
it  is  not  meagre,  and  it  overflows  with  a  spirit 
of  joy.  The  magazine  papers  referred  to  are 
delightful  contributions  to  the  sum  of  mental 
entertainment.  After  making  full  allowance 
for  the  effect  of  distance  in  lending  enchant 
ment  to  the  view,  for  the  writer's  desire  to  set 
forth  the  romantic  aspects  of  a  chosen  theme, 
for  the  poetic  sentiment  which  idealizes  the 
past,  and,  in  general,  for  an  amiable  disposition 
to  recall  only  what  was  pleasant,  there  remains 
enough  to  make  the  outsider  feel  that  for  a 
brief  period  a  truly  golden  age  visited  the  earth. 
Genius,  taste,  invention,  feeling,  put  forth  their 
best  endeavors ;  tempers  were  firm  and  fine  ; 
excellent  gifts  were  discovered  and  appreciated ; 
every  kind  of  talent  was  exercised ;  every  spe 
cies  of  good  nature  was  encouraged  ;  every  con 
tribution,  from  the  greatest  to  the  least,  was 
heartily  welcomed.  Spiritual  and  intellectual, 
as  well  as  aesthetic,  powers  were  in  fairest  bloom. 
They  who  would  penetrate  more  deeply  into 
the  philosophical  idea  of  the  institution  may 
consult  Noyes's  "  History  of  American  Social 
isms,"  or  Semler's  "  Geschichte  der  Socialismus 
und  Communismus  in  Nord  America,"  but  no 
formal  treatise  will  convey  the  genius  which  in 
spired  and  sustained  Brook  Farm.  The  editor 
of  the  New  York  "Sun,"  one  of  the  earliest, 


BROOK  FARM.  153 

ablest,  most  constant,  and  most  influential 
friends  of  the  enterprise,  said,  in  a  keenly  dis 
cerning  and  soberly  eulogistic  article  on  Mr. 
Ripley,  then  just  deceased  :  "  It  is  not  too  much 
to  say,  that  every  person  \vho  was  at  Brook 
Farm  for  any  length  of  time  has  ever  since 
looked  back  upon  it  with  a  feeling  of  satisfac 
tion.  The  healthy  mixture  of  manual  and  in 
tellectual  labor,  the  kindly  and  unaffected  social 
relations,  the  absence  of  everything  like  assump 
tion  or  servility,  the  amusements,  the  discus 
sions,  the  friendships,  the  ideal  and  poetical  at 
mosphere  which  gave  a  charm  to  life,  —  all  these 
combine  to  create  a  picture  toward  which  the 
mind  turns  back  with  pleasure,  as  to  something 
distant  and  beautiful,  not  elsewhere  met  with 
amid  the  routine  of  this  world."  Hawthorne, 
notwithstanding  a  certain  amount  of  personal 
disappointment,  and  a  rather  passionately  ex 
pressed  opinion  against  its  principle  of  combin 
ing  intellectual  with  manual  labor,  could  speak,* 
in  1852,  of  "  his  old  and  affectionately  remem 
bered  home  at  Brook  Farm "  as  being  "  cer 
tainly  the  most  romantic  episode  in  his  life." 
It  is  unnecessary  to  repeat  here  what  has  been 
said  so  often  and  so  authoritatively,  that  the 
"Blithedale  Romance"  simply  borrowed  from 
Brook  Farm  some  suggestions  of  character  and 
a  few  touches  of  local  color,  but  was  neither  in- 


154  GEORGE  RIP  LET. 

tended  nor  received  as  an  account  of  the  Asso 
ciation.  The  artist  did  as  painters  do,  —  used 
the  material  in  his  possession,  and  produced  his 
effects  by  such  combinations  as  suited  his  pur 
poses.  His  work  reflects  upon  Brook  Farm  nei 
ther  credit  nor  discredit.  In  1817  a  pupil  of 
Brook  Farm,  living  in  Boston,  made  an  effort 
to  bring  together  the  old  brotherhood  for  a  few- 
hours  of  social  enjoyment.  They  were  widely 
separated  ;  they  had  become  old  ;  they  were 
worn  by  toil  and  care  ;  they  were  absorbed  in 
life's  relations  and  occupied  witli  life's  duties. 
But  they  replied  in  terms  of  gratitude  for  the 
remembrance,  of  affection  towards  their  former 
comrades,  and  of  confidence  in  the  principles  of 
their  ancient  organization.  The  leader  wrote : 
"  Brook  Farm  may  well  point  to  the  children 
who  graced  her  social  circles  so  long  time  ago, 
and  who  have  since  ripened  into  strong  men 
and  noble  women,  saying,  with  the  modest  pride 
•  of  the  Roman  matron,  4  These  are  my  jewels.' " 
Mr.  Dana  recalled  the  past  affectionately,  ac 
knowledging  it  as  a  "  great  pleasure  to  look 
back  upon  the  days  when  we  were  together, 
and  to  believe  that  the  ends  for  which  we  then 
labored  are  sure  at  last,  in  good  time,  to  be 
realized  for  mankind."  Mr.  Channing  wrote  • 
"  The  faith  and  longing  for  the  perfect  organi 
zation  of  society  have  only  deepened  with  time." 


BROOK  FARM.  155 

Another  said  :  "  Were  I  not  occupied  exactly  as 
I  am,  I  should  indulge  myself,  at  the  cost  of  a 
good  deal  of  effort  even,  in  the  pleasure  of  a 
meeting  with  fellow-laborers  whose  faith  in  the 
truth  of  our  social  principles  has  never  faltered, 
I  am  sure,  any  more  than  my  own."  Another 
wrote  :  "  There  is  no  part  of  my  past  life  that  I 
recall  more  frequently  than  that  spent  at  Brook 
Farm."  Another  wished  that  his  "  children 
could  live  under  such  influences,  that,  on  the 
whole,  were  so  pure  and  refined."  Yet  another 
"  modest  worker  "  recorded  his  faith  that,  "  al 
though  the  original  objects  of  the  Association 
were  never  accomplished  exactly  as  proposed," 
he  has  always  felt,  in  his  own  case,  that  he 
"  derived  a  lasting  impulse  and  gain  from,  the 
connection." 

The  daily  life  at  Brook  Farm  was,  of  course, 
extremely  simple,  even  homely.  The  meals 
were  eaten  in  the  common  dining-room,  the  veg 
etarians,  of  whom  there  were  several,  occupying 
a  table  by  themselves.  The  food  was  plain. 
There  were  no  hired  waiters.  The  benches 
were  of  pine  wood,  without  backs.  There  was 
a  general  parlor,  and  a  reading-room  well  sup- 
•plied  with  journals  and  daily  papers.  Those 
who  had  books  readily  lent  them  to  such  as 
wished  them,  or  contributed  them  to  the  com 
munity.  Mr.  Ripley  had  his  library  at  the 


156  GEORGE  RIP  LEY. 

"  Eyrie,"  as  the  house  was  called.  There  were 
no  separate  parlors.  The  only  kitchen  was  in 
the  "  Hive."  As  the  members  increased,  addi 
tional  accommodation  was  provided  by  the  erec 
tion  of  new  buildings,  but  there  was  at  no  time 
too  much  room  for  the  one  hundred  and  fifty 
inmates.  The  forms  of  courtesy  were  at  all 
times  observed,  something  better  than  polite 
ness  prompting  the  associates  to  make  them 
selves  pleasant  to  their  companions.  There 
were  naturally  few  rules,  but  such  as  existed 
were  cheerfully  obeyed.  The  highest  moral 
refinement  prevailed  in  all  departments.  In 
the  morning,  every  species  of  industrial  activ 
ity  went  on.  In  the  afternoon,  the  laborers 
changed  their  garments  and  became  teachers, 
often  of  abstruse  branches  of  knowledge.  The 
evenings  were  devoted  to  such  recreations  as 
suited  the  taste  of  the  individual.  The  farm 
was  never  thoroughly  tilled,  from  the  want  of 
sufficient  hands.  A  good  deal  of  hay  was  raised, 
and  milk  was  produced  from  a  dozen  cows.  The 
milk  was  sold  to  outside  consumers,  and  the 
vegetables,  so  far  as  they  were  not  wanted  in 
the  Association,  were  sent  to  the  nearest  mar 
ket.  Some  worked  all  day  in  the  field,  some 
only  a  few  hours,  some  none  at  all,  being  oth 
erwise  employed,  or  by  some  reason  disqual 
ified.  The  most  cultivated  worked  the  hard- 


BROOK  FARM.  157 

est.  Labor-saving  machines  were  introduced  or 
invented ;  but,  although  all  worked  who  could, 
the  labor  to  be  done  was  always  in  excess  of  the 
laborers. 

The  serious  difficulties  were  financial.  These 
pressed  heavily  on  the  directors,  for  no  indus 
try,  no  patience,  no  devotion  will  carry  on  an 
enterprise  without  money.  None  of  the  mem 
bers  were  rich  ;  most  of  them  were  poor  ;  the 
ablest  were  only  moderately  well-to-do.  The 
trades  lacked  a  market,  and  therefore  did  not 
thrive.  The  manufacture  of  Britannia  ware, 
lamps  and  so  forth,  had  limited  encouragement ; 
the  sash  and  blind  maker  had  leisure  in  excess 
of  his  orders  ;  the  shoe  business  languished. 
The  farm  yielded  but  moderate  returns  beyond 
the  actual  needs  of  the  community.  None  of 
the  lighter  industries  — nursery,  garden,  green 
house  —  paid  anything.  The  necessity  of  meet 
ing  the  dues  of  interest  on  capital  advanced 
about  exhausted  the  proceeds  of  the  school, 
which  was  much  the  most  lucrative  department 
of  the  institution.  The  public  took  no  "solid" 
interest  in  the  concern.  The  experienced  men 
who  were  there  brought  little  beside  their  skill. 
The  subjoined  condensed  report  best  tells  this 
part  of  the  story. 

"  The  direction  of  finance  respectfully  submit  their 
Annual  Report  for  the  year  ending  October  31, 
1844 :  — 


158  GEORGE  RIP  LET. 

The  income  of  the  Association  during  the  year 
from  all  sources  whatever,  has  been  .  .  .  $11,854.41 

And  its  expenditures  for  all  purposes,  includ 
ing  interest,  losses  by  bad  debts,  and  damage  of 
buildings  and  tools  and  furniture  .  .  .  10,409.14 


Leaving  a  balance  of $1,445.27 

From  which,  deducting  the  amount  of  doubtful 
debts  contracted  this  year 284.43 


which  is  to  be  divided  according  to  the  Consti 
tution,  we  have  $1,160.84 

By  the  last  yearly  report  of  this  direction  it  ap 
peared  that  the  Association  had  been  a  loser  up  to 
November  1,  1843,  to  the  amount  of  $2,748.83.  In 
this  amount  were  included  sundry  debts  against  asso 
ciates  amounting  to  S9 24.38,  which  should  not  have 
been  included.  There  were  also  some  small  discrep 
ancies,  which  were  afterwards  discovered,  so  that  on 
settling  the  books  the  entire  deficit  appeared  to  be 
$1,837.  To  this  amount  should  be  added  the  pro 
portion  of  the  damage  done  to  the  tools,  furniture,  and 
general  fixtures,  and  depreciation  in  the  live  stock, 
by  the  use  of  the  two  years  which  the  Association 
had  been  in  operation  previous  to  that  time.  The 
whole  damage  of  this  property  by  the  use  of  these 
years  has  been  ascertained  by  inventory  to  be  $365.54, 
according  to  the  estimates  and  statements  prepared 
by  Messrs.  Ryckman  and  Hastings,  which  are  here 
with  submitted.  Of  this  sum,  $365.54,  we  have  one 
third,  $121.85,  to  the  account  of  the  current  year ; 
and  two  thirds,  $243.69,  to  the  account  of  the  two 
preceding  years.  To  the  same  account  should  also 


BROOK  FARM.  159 

be  added  sundry  debts  which  have  since  proved  to 
be  bad,  amounting  to  $678.08  ;  and  also  an  error  in 

favor  of ,  amounting  to  $17.74,  which  has  since 

been  discovered  in  his  account,  so  that  the  total 
deficit  of  the  preceding  years  will  appear  to  be  as 
follows :  — 

Deficit  on  settling  the  books $1,837.00 

Damage  on  furniture  and  fixtures         .        .        .  243.69 

Bad  debts,  including  debts  of  associates,  considered 

doubtful 698.08 

J.  Morton 17.74 

Total,  $2,776.51 

From  this  amount  is  to  be  deducted  the  value  of 
the  farm  produce,  consisting  of  hay,  roots,  manures, 
etc.,  on  hand  November  1,  1843,  which  was  not 
taken  into  the  account  of  last  year ;  but  which  has 
been  ascertained  to  be  $762.50,  as  well  as  the  value 
$49.13  of  the  family  stores  which  were  on  hand  at 
the  same  time,  but  were  also  omitted  from  the  ac 
count.  Deducting  these  two  amounts,  $762.50  and 
$49.13  ($811.63),  from  the  deficit  as  above  stated, 
we  have :  — 

Deficit ...  $2,776.51 

Farm  produce  and  family  stores  .        .        .        .  811.63 

Eeal  deficit  for  1842  and  1843          ....  $1,964.88 

It  was  the  opinion  of  a  majority  at  least  of  this 
board  that  this  sum  must  be  chargeable  upon  the 
future  industry  of  the  Association,  and  that  no  divi 
dend  could  be  declared  until  it  had  been  made  up. 
Accordingly  the  quarterly  statement  for  the  quarter 


100  GEORGE  RfPLEY. 

ending  August  1,  1844,  was  based  upon  this  opinion, 
and  a  deficit  of  $526.78  declared  to  exist  at  that  time. 
It  is  but  justice  to  say  that  this  statement  was  made 
up  in  the  absence  of  one  of  the  members  of  the  di 
rection,  who,  on  seeing  it,  objected  entirely  to  the 
principle  which  it  embodied. 

The  earlier  losses  of  the  establishment  must  be 
regarded  as  the  price  of  much  valuable  experience, 
and  as  inevitable  in  starting  such  an  institution. 
Almost  every  business  fails  to  pay  its  expenses  at 
the  commencement ;  it  always  costs  something  to  set 
the  wheels  in  operation ;  this  is  not,  however,  to  be 
regarded  as  absolute  loss.  This  is  the  view  which  is 
to  be  taken  of  the  condition  of  the  Association  at  the 
beginning  of  the  present  year  :  a  certain  sum  had 
been  expended  in  establishing  the  Association,  but  it 
is  not  therefore  a  loss,  but  only  so  much  capital  in 
vested,  and  well  and  profitably  invested. 

To  some  persons  it  may  perhaps  seem  remarkable 
that  a  dividend  should  be  declared,  when  the  Associ 
ation  is  so  much  in  want  of  ready  money  as  at  pres 
ent  ;  but  a  little  reflection  will  show  any  one  that  it 
is  a  perfectly  legitimate  proceeding.  A  very  large 
part  of  our  industry  has  been  engaged  in  the  produc 
tion  of  permanent  property  such  as  the  shop,  the 
phalanstery,  and  the  improvements  upon  the  farm. 
These  are  of  even  more  value  to  the  Association  than 
so  much  money,  and.  a  dividend  may  as  justly  be 
based  upon  them  as  upon  cash  in  the  treasury. 

In  the  schedule  marked  "  D "  is  contained  a 
statement  of  the  debts  of  the  Association  contracted 


BROOK  FARM.  161 

since  April  17,  1844,  by  which  it  appears  that  those 
debts  amount  to  $809.96.  Of  this  amount  the  bills 
of  Messrs.  Guild  and  Hartshorn  for  blacksmithing, 
$99.39,  are  provided  for  and  will  presently  be  set 
tled. 

The  schedule  marked  G  contains  a  statement  of 
the  time  employed  by  individual  associates  in  labor  ; 
and  in  the  schedule  marked  H  is  contained  a  similar 
account  of  the  time  employed  in  labor  by  the  differ 
ent  probationers. 

According  to  the  Constitution,  Art.  III.,  Section 
4,  pupils  over  ten  years  of  age  and  probationers  are 
entitled  to  no  fixed  dividend,  but  to  such  an  amount  as 
the  Association  may  decide.  In  the  case  of  pupils  the 
direction  have  not  thought  that  any  dividend  should 
be  awarded.  To  the  probationers  the  direction  would 
recommend  that  two  thirds  of  a  full  dividend  should 
be  allowed,  which  is  the  proportion  that  they  were 
thought  to  be  entitled  to  in  fixing  the  amount  of  their 
stipend. 

In  Schedule  C  is  contained  a  statement  of  the 
amount  of  interest  and  insurance  which  the  Associa 
tion  is  now  paying,  which  appears  to  be  $1,752.44. 

As  soon  as  the  phalanstery  shall  be  completed,  it 
will  become  necessary  to  establish  different  rates  of 
room  rent.  It  is  a  matter  of  doubt  whether  such  an 
arrangement  is  not  already  desirable.  In  our  pres 
ent  crowded  condition  indeed  the  general  inconven 
iences  are  distributed  with  tolerable  equality ;  but 
still  it  is  impossible  to  avoid  some  exceptions,  and  it 
might  contribute  to  the  harmony  of  the  Association 
11 


162  GEORGE  RIFLE T. 

if  a  just  graduation  of  rates  for  different  apartments 
should  now  be  established.  As  far  as  possible  no 
member  should  be  the  recipient  of  peculiar  favors  ; 
but  where  all  are  charged  at  an  equal  rate  for  un 
equal  accommodations  this  is  unavoidable.  For  the 
same  reason  a  difference  should  be  made  between  the 
price  of  board  at  the  Graham  tallies  and  those  which 
are  furnished  with  a  different  kind  of  food.  It  is  only 
by  this  means  that  justice  can  be  done  und  the  con 
stant  recurrence  of  very  unpleasant  difficulties  pre 
vented. 

This  direction  would  also  call  the  attention  of  the 
Association  to  the  necessity  of  instituting  suitable 
regulations  respecting  the  absence  of  members.  The 
right  to  withdraw  from  the  labors  of  the  Association 
is  laid  do.vvn  in  the  Constitution,  Art.  III.,  Section  3, 
together  with  the  conditions  of  doing  so ;  but  of  ab 
sence  from  the  Association  and  its  conditions  nothing 
is  said,  either  in  the  Constitution  or  the  By-Laws.  It 
is  plain,  however,  that  the  absence  of  any  members 
from  the  place  for  personal  purposes  ought  not  to  ab 
solve  them  from  the  pecuniary  responsibilities  of  the 
relation.  An  equitable  share  of  the  current  general 
expenses  should  be  borne  by  all  members  when  ab 
sent  as  well  as  when  present.  The  services  of  each 
member  are,  by  the  terms  of  the  compact,  supposed 
to  be  of  value  to  the  whole  phalanx  over  and  above 
the  guaranties  and  dividends  which  he  receives  as  a 
compensation.  When  he  withdraws  from  labor  and 
yet  remains  upon  the  place,  this  is  made  up  by  his 
paying  the  full  price  for  board  and  other  articles  fur- 


BROOK  FARM.  163 

nished  him  ;  but  when  he  is  absent  from  the  place,  it 
is  not,  according  to  our  present  arrangements,  made 
up  in  any  way  whatever. 

It  is  also  the  opinion  of  the  direction  that  the  time 
has  arrived  when  the  natural  differences  in  labor 
should  be  recognized  and  different  rates  of  compensa 
tion  for  attractive,  useful,  and  necessary  labor  estab 
lished.  In  the  earlier  stages  of  the  enterprise  it  was, 
perhaps,  not  necessary  that  this  should  be  done,  but 
at  present  it  ought  not  to  be  deferred.  Indeed,  the 
whole  organization  of  industry  should  be  brought  to 
a  greater  degree  of  scientific  completeness.  It  is  re 
markable  that  in  all  young  associations  much  labor 
seems  to  be  lost ;  no  man  appears  to  accomplish  his 
usual  amount  of  work.  This  evil  can  be  remedied 
only  by  perfecting  our  groups  and  series  according  to 
scientific  principles.  The  results  of  the  year  just 
passed,  not  brilliant  certainly,  but  yet  highly  encour 
aging,  are  mainly  owing  to  the  imperfect  approach  to 
such  principles  which  we  have  been  able  to  introduce. 
Even  with  the  present  arrangements  we  presume  that 
the  results  of  next  year's  settlement  might  considera 
bly  exceed  those  of  the  present,  but  they  must  still 
fall  far  short  of  what  we  wish  for.  Our  object  will 
not  be  gained  until  we  show  practically  that  associ 
ated  industry  gives  a  product  far  superior  to  that  of 
"civilized"  industry.  The  establishment  of  the  three 
great  divisions  of  labor  of  which  we  have  spoken,  and 
euch  other  alterations  in  the  general  regulations  re 
specting  labor  as  will  bring  them  nearer  to  justice  and 
to  scientific  truth,  will  be  important  steps  to  this  end. 


164  GEORGE  RIPLEY. 

But  we  are  convinced  that  it  can  be  fully  reached 
only  by  perfectly  arranged  groups  and  series,  and  \vo 
may  be  sure  that  the  industrial  capacities  of  the  As 
sociation  will  increase  in  compound  proportion  to  the 
completeness  with  which  it  attains  to  a  regular  serial 
order  in  all  departments,  and  to  its  general  harmony. 
In  conclusion,  the  direction  would  respectfully  urge 
this  subject  upon  the  attention  of  the  Association  as 
one  of  great  and  pressing  importance. 

CHARLES  ANDERSON  DANA,  Chairman. 
BROOK  FARM,  December  15,  1844. 

Through  all  this  embarrassment  Mr.  Ripley 
kept  his  serenity  undisturbed.  More  than  that, 
he  was  cheerful  and  even  gay.  No  cloud  was 
seen  on  his  face.  He  had  pleasant  words  for 
all.  His  voice  was  musical,  his  manner  bright. 
Thinking,  working  with  hand,  head,  heart :  ad 
vising,  directing,  talking  philosophy  with  Theo 
dore  Parker,  talking  farming  with  Minut  Pratt, 
writing  diplomatic  letters,  milking  cows,  carry 
ing  vegetables  to  market,  cleaning  the  stable,  — • 
he  was  still  the  same  sunny-tempered  man,  true 
to  his  ideal,  and  true  to  himself.  His  devoted 
wife  toiled  and  served  at  his  side  unmurmur- 
ingly.  For  ten  hours  at  a  time  she  has  been 
known  to  labor  in  the  muslin  room.  With  her 
hands  in  the  wash-tub,  or  her  knees  on  the 
scrubbing  floor,  she  would  still  entertain  her 
fellow-workers  by  her  smiling  wit.  Making 


BROOK  FARM.  .   165 

courteous  apologies  to  her  city  friends  for  not 
receiving  or  returning  their  visits,  she  never  de 
clined  repulsive  duty  or  uncongenial  compan 
ionship.  A  diligent  and  laborious  housekeeper, 
she  was  yet  so  attentive  to  her  classes  that  in 
two  years  she  missed  only  two  recitations  ;  and 
with  all  this,  she  was  so  unassuming  that  her 
name  scarcely  appears  on  the  record  of  Brook 
Farm.  She  was  an  adviser,  too,  —  one  of  the 
Council,  —  as  intimately  connected  with  the  ad 
ministration  of  the  community  as  with  its  toils. 
Much  of  the  energy  of  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Ripley 
must  have  been  due  to  sheer  character.  None 
had  so  much  to  lose  as  they.  Upon  none  did 
the  burden  of  care  rest  so  heavily.  They  had 
less  share  than  the  rest  in  the  amusements  and 
recreations  of  the  place.  They  were  no  longer 
young.  They  bad  already  a  background  of  dis 
appointment.  In  thoughtful  hours  their  future 
must  have  seemed  precarious.  But  nothing  of 
this  appeared.  From  morning  till  night  they 
upheld  the  courage  and  faith  of  those  younger 
and  less  anxious  than  themselves.  This  they 
did,  every  day,  for  six  or  seven  years,  waiting 
and  hoping,  refusing  to  be  discouraged,  conceal 
ing  from  others,  as  far  as  possible  hiding  from 
themselves,  the  suspicion  that  the  prayer,  "  Thy 
will  be  done  on  earth  as  it  is  in  heaven,"  was 
not  so  near  being  answered  as  they  had  be 
lieved. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

BROOK  FARM.  —  FOURIERISM. 

THUS  far  there  had  been  no  organization.  In 
fact,  disorganization  had  been  the  rule  of  the  in 
stitution.  The  name  was  an  after-thought.  The 
Constitution  was  not  written  till  the  experi 
ment  was  several  months  old.  The  principle 
of  freedom  from  all  restraints  but  those  of  rea 
son  and  conscience  made  the  managers  jealous 
even  of  apparent  control.  The  policy  of  non 
intervention  was  carried  as  far  as  it  could  be 
without  incurring  the  risk  of  anarchy.  This 
was  not  unfitly  called  the  "  transcendental "  pe 
riod.  It  was  charming,  but  unprofitable  in  a 
worldly  sense.  As  early  as  1843  the  wisdom  of 
makmg-^di*Bges  in  the  direction  of  scientific 
arrange nVent  was  agitated  ;  in  the  first  months 
of  1844  the  reformation  was  seriously  begun. 
On  January  15,  1844,  W.  H.  Channing,  editor 
of  the  "  Present,'*  a  weekly  paper  begun  in 
September,  1843,  published  in  New  York,  wrote 
a  glowing  account  of  a  convention  which  had 
been  held  at  Boston  on  the  last  week  of  Decem 
ber,  1843,  and  the  first  week  of  January,  1844, 


BROOK  FARM.  — FOURIERISM.  167 

in  behalf  of  Fourierism.  In  the  closing  num 
ber  of  the  "Dial,"  April,  1844,  Miss  E.  P. 
Peabody  called  attention  to  the  same  meeting. 
The  attendance  was  considerable,  and  the  in 
terest  so  great  that  the  convention,  which  was 
to  have  broken  tip  on  Wednesday,  held  over 
through  Thursday  and  Friday.  At  this  con 
vention  Brook  Farm  was  represented,  and  Mr. 
Ripley  made  an  earnest  speech.  The  "  Pha 
lanx  " —  an  organ  of  Fourier's  doctrine,  also 
published  in  New  York  since  October,  1843  — 
welcomed  Brook  Farm  to  the  scientific  frater 
nity  in  an  article  printed  February  5,  1844.  In 
connection  with  the  proposed  transformation, 
the  directors  of  the  Brook  Farm  Association 
published  a  second  edition  of  their  Constitu 
tion,  with  the  following  "  Introductory  State 
ment."  We  print  the  statement,  which  shows 
how  early  the  change  to  Fourierism  was  virtu 
ally  made.  That  so  complete  a  revolution  was 
effected  without  long  and  eager  discussion,  some 
misgiving,  much  criticism,  and  a  good  deal  of 
discontent,  especially  among  the  irresponsible 
members,  is  not  to  be  supposed.  The  idyllic 
phase  of  Brook  Farm  was  well-nigh  ended. 

INTRODUCTORY   STATEMENT. 

The  Association  at  Brook  Farm  has  now  been  in 
existence  upwards  of  two  years.     Originating  in  the 


168  GEORGE  RIP  LEY. 

thought  and  experience  of  a  few  individuals,  it  haa 
hitherto  worn  for  the  most  part  the  character  of  a 
private  experiment,  and  has  avoided  rather  than 
sought  the  notice  of  the  public.  It  lias,  until  the 
present  time,  seemed  fittest  to  those  engaged  in  this 
enterprise  to  publish  no  statements  of  their  purposes 
or  methods,  to  make  no  promises  or  declarations,  but 
quietly  and  sincerely  to  realize,  as  far  as  might  be 
possible,  the  great  ideas  which  gave  the  central  im 
pulse  to  their  movement.  It  has  been  thought  that 
a  steady  endeavor  to  embody  these  ideas  more  and 
more  perfectly  in  life  would  give  the  best  answer, 
both  to  the  hopes  of  the  friendly  and  the  cavils  of  the 
skeptical,  and  furnish  in  its  results  the  surest  grounds 
for  any  larger  efforts. 

Meanwhile,  every  step  has  strengthened  the  faith 
with  which  we  set  out ;  our  belief  in  a  divine  order 
of  human  society  has  in  our  own  minds  become  an 
absolute  certainty  ;  and  considering  the  present  state 
of  humanity  and  of  social  science,  we  do  not  hesitate 
to  affirm  that  the  world  is  much  nearer  the  attainment 
of  such  a  condition  than  is  generally  supposed. 

The  deep  interest  in  the  doctrine  of  Association, 
which  now  fills  the  minds  of  intelligent  persons  every 
where,  indicates  plainly  that  the  time  has  passed  when 
even  initiative  movements  ought  to  be  prosecuted  in 
silence,  and  makes  it  imperative  on  all  who  have 
either  a  theoretical  or  practical  knowledge  of  the  sub 
ject  to  give  their  share  to  the  stock  of  public  infor 
mation. 

Accordingly  we  have   taken  occasion,  at   severa. 


BROOK  FARM.  —  FOURIER1SM.  169 

public  meetings  recently  held  in  Boston,  to  state  some 
of  the  results  of  our  studies  and  experience,  and  we 
desire  here  to  say  emphatically,  that  while,  on  the 
one  hand,  we  yield  an  unqualified  assent  to  that  doc 
trine  of  universal  unity  which  Fourier  teaches,  so, 
on  the  other,  our  whole  observation  has  shown  us  the 
truth  of  the  practical  arrangements  which  he  deduces 
therefrom.  The  law  of  groups  and  series  is,  we  are 
convinced,  the  law  of  human  nature,  and  when  men 
are  in  true  social  relations,  their  industrial  organiza 
tion  will  necessarily  assume  those  forms. 

But  beside  the  demand  for  information  respecting 
the  principles  of  Association,  there  is  a  deeper  call 
for  action  in  the  matter.  We  wish,  therefore,  to 
bring  Brook  Farm  before  the  public,  as  a  location 
offering  at  least  as  great  advantages  for  a  thorough 
experiment  as  can  be  found  in  the  vicinity  of  Bos 
ton.  It  is  situated  in  West  Roxbury,  three  miles 
from  the  depot  of  the  Dedham  Branch  Railroad,  and 
about  eight  miles  from  Boston,  and  combines  a  con 
venient  nearness  to  the  city  with  a  degree  of  retire 
ment  and  freedom  from  unfavorable  influences,  unu 
sual  even  in  the  country.  The  place  is  one  of  great 
natural  beauty,  and,  indeed,  the  whole  landscape  is 
so  rich  and  various  as  to  attract  the  notice  even  of 
casual  visitors.  The  farm  now  owned  by  the  Asso 
ciation  contains  two  hundred  and  eight  acres,  of  as 
good  quality  as  any  land  in  the  neighborhood  of  Bos 
ton,  and  can  be  enlarged  by  the  purchase  of  land  ad 
joining  to  any  necessary  extent.  The  property  now 
in  .the  hands  of  the  Association  is  worth  nearly  or 


170  GEORGE  RIPLET. 

quite  thirty  thousand  dollars,  of  which  about  twenty- 
two  thousand  dollars  is  invested  either  in  the  stock 
of  the  company,  or  in  permanent  loans  to  it  at  six 
per  cent.,  which  can  remain  as  long  as  the  Association 
may  wish. 

The  fact  that  so  large  an  amount  of  capital  is  al 
ready  invested  and  at  our  service  as  the  basis  of  more 
extensive  operations,  furnishes  a  reason  why  Brook 
Farm  should  be  chosen  as  the  scene  of  that  practical 
trial  of  Association  which  the  public  feeling  calls  for 
in  this  immediate  vicinity,  instead  of  forming  an  en 
tirely  new  organization  for  that  purpose. 

The  completeness  of  our  educational  department 
is  also  not  to  be  overlooked.  This  has  hitherto  re 
ceived  our  greatest  care,  and  in  forming  it  we  have 
been  particularly  successful.  In  any  new  Association 
it  must  be  many  years  before  so  many  accomplished 
and  skillful  teachers  in  the  various  branches  of  intel 
lectual  culture  could  be  enlisted.  Another  strong 
reason  is  to  be  found  in  the  degree  of  order  our  or 
ganization  has  already  attained,  by  the  help  of  which 
a  large  Association  might  be  formed  without  the 
losses  and  inconveniences  which  would  otherwise  nec 
essarily  occur.  The  experience  of  nearly  three  years 
in  all  the  misfortunes  and  mistakes  incident  to  an 
undertaking  so  new  and  so  little  understood,  carried 
on  throughout  by  persons  not  entirely  fitted  for  the 
duties  they  have  been  compelled  to  perform,  has,  as 
we  think,  prepared  us  to  assist  in  the  safe-conduct  of 
an  extensive  and  complete  Association. 

Such  an  institution,  as  will  be  plain  to  all,  cannot, 


BROOK  FARM.  —  FOUEIERISM.  171 

by  any  sure  means,  be  brought  at  once  and  full  grown 
into  existence.  It  must,  at  least  in  the  present  state 
of  society,  begin  with  a  comparatively  small  number 
of  select  and  devoted  persons,  and  increase  by  natu 
ral  and  gradual  aggregations.  With  a  view  to  an 
ultimate  expansion  into  a  perfect  Phalanx,  we  desire 
without  any  delay  to  organize  the  three  primary  de 
partments  of  labor,  namely,  Agriculture,  Domestio7 
Industry,  and  the  Mechanic  Arts.  ( 

For  this  purpose,  additional  capital  will  be  needed, 
which  it  is  most  desirable  should  be  invested  by  those 
who  propose  to  connect  themselves  personally  with 
the  institution.  These  should  be  men  and  women  ac 
customed  to  labor,  skillful,  careful,  in  good  health, 
and,  more  than  all,  imbued  with  the  idea  of  Associa 
tion,  and  ready  to  consecrate  themselves  without  re 
serve  to  its  realization.  For  it  ought  to  be  known 
that  the  work  we  propose  is  a  difficult  one,  and,  ex 
cept  to  the  most  entire  faith  and  resolution,  will  offer 
insurmountable  obstacles  and  discouragements.  Nei 
ther  will  it  be  possible  to  find  in  Association,  at  the 
outset,  the  great  outward  advantages  it  ultimately 
promises.  The  first  few  years  must  be  passed  in  con 
stant  and  unwearied  labor,  lightened  chiefly  by  the 
consciousness  of  high  aims  and  the  inward  content 
that  devotion  to  a  universal  object  cannot  fail  to 
bring.  Still  there  are  certain  tangible  compensations 
which  Association  guarantees  immediately.  These 
are  freedom  fron^  pecuniary  anxiety  and  the  evils  of 
competitive  industry,  free  and  friendly  society,  and 
,he  education  of  children.  How  great  these  are, 


172  GEORGE  RIP  LEY. 

those  who  have  felt  the  terrible  burdens  which  the 
present  civilized  society  imposes  in  these  respects  will 
not  need  to  be  informed. 

Those  who  may  wish  to  further  this  cause  by  in 
vestments  of  money  only,  will  readily  perceive  that 
their  end  is  not  likely  to  be  lost  in  an  Association 
whose  means  are  devoted  mainly  to  productive  indus 
try,  and  where  nothing  will  ever  be  risked  in  uncer 
tain  speculations. 

The  following  Constitution  is  the  same  as  that  un 
der  which  we  have  hitherto  acted,  with  such  altera 
tions  as,  on  a  careful  revision,  seemed  needful.  All 
persons  who  are  not  familiar  with  the  purposes  of 
Association  will  understand  from  this  document  that 
we  propose  a  radical  and  universal  reform,  rather 
than  to  redress  any  particular  wrong,  or  to  remove 
the  sufferings  of  any  single  class  of  human  beings. 
AVt-  do  this  in  the  light  of  universal  principles,  in 
which  all  differences,  whether  of  religion,  or  politics, 
or  philosophy,  are  reconciled,  and  the  dearest  and 
most  private  hope  of  every  man  has  the  promise  of 
fulfillment.  Herein,  let  it  be  understood,  we  would 
remove  nothing  that  is  truly  beautiful  or  venerable ; 
we  reverence  the  religious  sentiment  in  all  its  forms, 
the  family,  and  whatever  else  has  its  foundation  either 
in  human  nature  or  the  Divine  Providence.  The 
work  we  are  engaged  in  is  not  destruction,  but  true 
conservation  ;  it  is  not  a  mere  revolution,  but,  as  we 
are  assured,  a  necessary  step  in  the  course  of  social 
progress  which  no  one  can  be  blind  enough  to  think 
has  yet  reached  its  limit.  We  believe  that  humanity, 


BROOK  FARM.—FOURIERISM.  173 

trained  by  these  long  centuries  of  suffering  and  strug 
gle,  led  onward  by  so  many  saints  and  heroes  and 
sages,  is  at  length  prepared  to  enter  into  that  univer 
sal  order  towards  which  it  has  perpetually  moved. 
Thus  we  recognize  the  worth  of  the  whole  Past,  and 
of  every  doctrine  and  institution  it  has  bequeathed 
us ;  thus,  also,  we  perceive  that  the  Present  has  its 
own  high  mission,  and  we  shall  only  say  what  is  be 
ginning  to  be  seen  by  all  sincere  thinkers,  when  we 
declare  that  the  imperative  duty  of  this  time  and  this 
country,  —  nay  more,  that  its  only  salvation,  and  the 
salvation  of  all  civilized  countries,  —  lies  in  the  re 
organization  of  society,  according  to  the  unchanging 
laws  of  human  nature  and  of  universal  harmony. 

We  look,  then,  to  the  generous  and  hopeful  of  all 
classes  for  sympathy,  for  encouragement,  and  for  act 
ual  aid,  not  to  ourselves  only,  but  to  all  those  who 
are  engaged  in  this  great  work.  And,  whatever  may 
be  the  result  of  any  special  efforts,  we  can  never 
doubt  that  the  object  we  have  in  view  will  finally  be 
attained  ;  that  human  life  shall  yet  be  developed,  not 
in  discord  and  misery,  but  in  harmony  and  joy,  and 
the  perfected  earth  shall  at  last  bear  on  her  bosom  a 
race  of  men  worthy  of  the  name. 

GEORGE  RIPLEY,     "\ 
MINOT  PRATT,         ^-Directors. 
CHARLES  A.  DANA,  ) 
BROOK  FARM,  WEST  ROXBURY, 
January  18,  1844. 

The  most  prominent  person  associated  with 
the  name  and  doctrines  of  Fourier  in  this  coun- 


17-1  GEORGE  RIPLET. 

try,  and  the  most  powerful  instrument  in  the 
conversion  of  Brook  Farm,  was  Mr.  Albert  Bris 
bane.  He  had  studied  the  system  in  France, 
and  made  it  his  business  to  introduce  it  here. 
His  book,  "  The  Social  Destiny  of  Man,"  was 
published  in  1840;  in  1843  the  New  York 
"  Tribune  "  opened  its  columns  to  him  ;  in  the 
autumn  of  the  same  year  the  monthly  "  Pha 
lanx"  was  started.  Mr.  Brisbane  was  inter 
ested  in  the  Brook  Farm  experiment,  and  nat 
urally  desirous  of  giving  it  a  more  scientific 
basis.  He  came  there  often,  at  first  spending 
a  few  days,  but  finally  residing  there  several 
months.  He  took  no  part  in  the  manual  labor 
of  the  place,  but  devoted  himself  to  the  transla 
tion  of  Fourier's  Works  and  to  the  exposition 
of  his  theory.  He  was  a  man  of  ability  and 
enthusiasm,  an  intellectual  visionary.  To  his 
fancy  the  heavens  were  opened  to  Fourier,  and 
the  kingdom  of  God  was  ready  to  descend  from 
the  clouds  upon  his  disciples.  In  the  mere  name 
"  Phalanx,"  he  seemed  to  hear  the  trumpets  of 
the  angels.  It  is  probable  that  from  him  came 
the  earliest  knowledge  of  Fourier's  system,  as 
well  as  the  impulse  to  convert  to  it  the  leaders 
of  the  movement  in  West  Roxbury.  On  the  4th 
of  April,  1844,  a  convention  of  Associationists 
was  held  in  Clinton  Hall,  New  York.  George 
Ripley  presided;  among  the  Vice-Presidents 


BROOK  FARM.  —  FOURIERISM.  175 

were  Horace  Greeley,  Albert  Brisbane,  and 
Charles  A.  Dana ;  the  business  committee  com 
prised,  besides  those  already  named,  Parke  God 
win  and  William  H.  Channing.  The  spirit  of 
Fourier  ruled  the  convention,  though  exception 
was  taken  to  such  of  his  doctrines  as,  in  the 
opinion  of  the  more  sober-minded  or  scrupulous, 
were  inconsistent  with  the  precepts  of  the  New 
Testament,  or  the  established  customs  of  society 
in  New  England.  The  speeches  were  eloquent, 
the  letters  were  glowing,  the  resolutions  were 
brave.  Burning  words  fell  as  from  inspired 
lips.  Channing,  Dana,  Greeley,  Godwin  — each 
in  characteristic  style  and  all  with  deep  sincerity 
—  poured  out  their  souls;  Mr.  Solyman  Brown 
of  the  Leroysville  Phalanx,  recited  an  ode,  en 
titled  "  Visions  of  the  Future."  The  convention 
was  closed  with  prayer  and  benediction. 

The  change  to  Fourierism  introduced  essen 
tial  modifications  into  the  Constitution  of  Brook 
Farm ;  a  different  class  of  people,  more  prac 
tical  and  prosaic,  came  thither.  It  may  be  ques 
tioned  whether  the  revolution  had  the  sympa 
thy  of  Mrs.  Ripley ;  but  Mr.  Ripley  threw  him 
self  into  it  with  all  his  ardor,  doing  his  utmost 
to  make  it  successful.  He  wrote,  talked,  lect 
ured,  illustrating  by  word  and  example  the  new 
gospel  of  labor  and  love,  which  to  him  was  an 
other  edition  of  the  Gospel  of  Christ.  In  March, 


176  GEORGE  RIP  LET. 

1845,  the  "  Brook  Farm  Phalanx 
porated  by  the  Legislature  of  Massachusetts. 
The  Constitution  breathes  a  spirit  of  hope  which 
is  pathetic  at  this  distance  of  time,  as  we  look 
back  on  the  failure  of  every  similar  undertak 
ing,  and  see  how  helplessly  astray  was  every 
one  of  these  attempts  to  reconstruct  the  social 
order ;  but  they  reveal  a  loftiness  of  sentiment 
and  a  vigor  of  thought  which  would  do  honor, 
under  any  circumstances,  to  human  nature.  The 
"  common  sense  "  of  the  world  has  sufficiently 
vindicated  itself  in  their  destruction  ;  let  Faith 
and  Aspiration  rejoice  in  their  inauguration 
and  purpose.  The  sternness  of  the  waking  does 
not  destroy  the  beauty  of  the  dream. 

The  publication  of  the  Constitution  was  fol 
lowed  in  the  summer  by  "  The  Harbinger,'* 
which  became  the  leading  journal  of  Fourierism 
in  the  country.  The  first  number  appeared  on 
June  14th.  It  was  a  handsome  sheet  of  sixteen 
pages,  printed  in  quarto  form.  Its  list  of  con 
tributors  was  about  the  most  remarkable  ever 
presented.  Besides  Ripley,  D wight,  Dana,  and 
Rykman,  of  Brook  Farm,  there  were  Brisbane, 
Channing,  Curtis,  Cranch,  Godwin,  Greeley, 
Lowell,  Whittier,  Story,  Higginson,  to  say  noth 
ing  of  gentlemen  less  known  in  literature,  jour 
nalism,  art,  and  business.  The  number  of  Mr. 
Ripley's  papers,  longer  and  shorter,  is  over 


BROOK  FARM.  —  FOURIERISM.  177 

three  hundred.  He  and  Mr.  Dana  wrote  most 
of  the  editorial  articles,  in  the  interest  of  Asso 
ciation ;  Mr.  Dana  noticed  the  new  books,  was 
the  chief  reviewer  ;  John  S.  D wight  had  charge 
of  the  musical  and  poetical  department,  but  did 
not  confine  himself  to  it,  his  zeal  prompting 
him  to  publish  papers  advocating  Association 
in  general  and  Fourier's  doctrines  in  particular; 
G.  W.  Curtis  was  a  regular  New  York  corre 
spondent,  reporting  mainly  the  news  in  the 
musical  world;  W.  H.  Channing  and  Parke 
Godwin  translated  or  selected  from  Fourier's 
writings ;  Whittier  sent  a  poem,  "  To  my 
Friend  on  the  Death  of  his  Sister ; "  Lowell, 
Cranch,  Higginson,  and  Story  appear  as  poets, 
as  do  also  Dwight  and  Dana.  So  many  brill 
iant  men  excited  interest  in  the  paper,  and 
would  have  insured  its  success,  if  brilliancy 
alone  would  do  it ;  but  even  genius,  though 
united  with  enthusiasm,  will  not  propel  a  ship 
in  a  dead  calm,  or  sustain  a  kite  in  a  lifeless  air. 
Here  is  the  prospectus  :  — 

"THE   HARBINGER:" 

Devoted  to  Social  and  Political  Progress  :  Pub 
lished  simultaneously  at  New  York  and  Boston,  by 
the  Brook  Farm  Phalanx. 

"  All  things,  at   the  present  day,  stand  provided 
and  prepared,  and  await  the  light." 
12 


178  GEORGE  RIPLET. 

Under  this  title  it  is  proposed  to  publish  a  weekly 
newspaper  for  the  examination  and  discussion  of  the 
great  questions  in  social  science,  politics,  literature, 
and  the  arts,  which  command  the  attention  of  all  be 
lievers  in  the  progress  and  elevation  of  humanity. 

In  politics  "  The  Harbinger "  will  be  democratic 
in  its  principles  and  tendencies;  cherishing  the  deep 
est  interest  in  the  advancement  and  happiness  of  the 
masses  ;  warring  against  all  exclusive  privilege  in 
legislation,  political  arrangements,  and  social  cus 
toms;  and  striving,  with  the  zeal  of  earnest  convic 
tion,  to  promote  the  jtriumph  of  the  high  democratic 
faith  which  it  is  the  chief  mission  of  the  nineteenth 
century  to  realize  in  society.  Our  devotion  to  the 
democratic  principle  will  lead  us  to  take  the  ground 
of  fearless  and  absolute  independence  in  regard  to  all 
political  part  it's,  whether  professing  attachment  to 
that  principle  or  hostility  to  it.  We  know  that  fidel 
ity  to  an  idea  can  never  be  measured  by  adherence 
to  a  name  ;  and  hence  we  shall  criticise  all  parties 
with  equal  severity,  though  we  trust  that  the  stern 
ness  of  truth  will  always  be  blended  with  the  tem 
perance  of  impartial  candor.  "With  tolerance  for  all 
opinions,  we  have  no  patience  with  hypocrisy  and 
pretense  ;  least  of  all  with  that  specious  fraud  which 
would  make  a  glorious  principle  the  apology  for  per 
sonal  ends.  It  will  therefore  be  a  leading  object  of 
"The  Harbinger"  to  strip  the  disguise  from  the  pre 
vailing  parties,  to  show  them  in  their  true  light,  to  , 
give  them  due  honor,  to  tender  them  our  grateful 
reverence  whenever  we  see  them  true  to  a  noble 


BROOK  FARM.  —  FOURIER1SM.  179 

principle  ;  but  at  all  times,  and  on  every  occasion,  to 
expose  false  professions,  to  hold  up  hollow-hearted- 
ness  and  duplicity  to  just  indignation,  to  warn  the 
people  against  the  demagogue  who  would  cajole  them 
by  honeyed  flatteries,  no  less  than  against  the  devotee 
of  Mammon  who  would  make  them  his  slaves. 

"  The  Harbinger  "  will  be  devoted  to  the  cause  of 
a  radical,  organic,  social  reform,  essential  to  the  high 
est  development  of  man's  nature,  to  the  production 
of  these  elevated  and  beautiful  forms  of  character  of 
which  he  is  capable,  and  to  the  diffusion  of  happi 
ness,  excellence,  and  universal  harmony  upon  the 
earth.  The  principles  of  universal  unity  as  taught 
by  Charles  Fourier,  in  their  application  to  society, 
we  believe  are  at  the  foundation  of  all  genuine  social 
progress  ;  and  it  will  ever  be  our  aim  to  discuss  and 
defend  these  principles  without  any  sectarian  bigotry, 
and  in  the  catholic  and  comprehensive  spirit  of  their 
great  discoverer.  While  we  bow  to  no  man  as  an 
authoritative,  infallible  master,  we  revere  the  genius 
of  Fourier  too  highly  not  to  accept  with  joyful  wel 
come  the  light  which  he  has  shed  on  the  most  intri 
cate  problems  of  human  destiny. 

The  social  reform,  of  whose  advent  the  signs  are 
everywhere  visible,  comprehends  all  others ;  and  in 
laboring  for  its  speedy  accomplishment,  we  are  con 
scious  of  devotion  to  the  enslaved,  to  the  promotion 
of  genuine  temperance,  and  to  the  elevation  of  the 
toiling  and  down-trodden  masses  to  the  inborn  rights 
of  humanity. 

In  literature  "  The  Harbinger  "  will  exercise  a  firm 


180  GEORGE  RIP  LET. 

and  impartial  criticism  without  respect  of  persons  or 
parties.  It  will  be  made  a  vehicle  for  the  freest 
thought,  though  not  of  random  speculations  ;  and 
with  a  generous  appreciation  of  the  various  forms 
of  truth  and  beauty,  it  will  not  fail  to  expose  such 
instances  of  false  sentiment,  perverted  taste  and  erro 
neous  opinion,  as  may  tend  to  vitiate  the  public  mind 
or  degrade  the  individual  character.  Nor  will  the 

•O 

literary  department  of  "  The  Harbinger  "  be  limited 
to  criticism  alone.  It  will  receive  contributions  from 
various  pens  in  different  spheres  of  thought ;  and, 
free  from  dogmatic  exclusiveness,  will  accept  all  that 
in  any  way  indicates  the  unity  of  man  with  Man, 
with  Nature,  and  with  God.  Consequently,  all  true 
science,  all  poetry  and  art,  all  sincere  literature,  all 
religion  that  is  from  the  soul,  all  wise  analyses  of 
mind  and  character,  will  come  within  its  province. 

We  appeal  for  aid  in  our  enterprise  to  the  earnest 
and  hopeful  spirits  in  all  classes  of  society.  We  ap 
peal  to  all  who,  suffering  from  a  restless  discontent 
in  the  present  order  of  things,  with  faith  in  man 
and  trust  in  God,  are  striving  for  the  establishment 
of  universal  justice,  harmony,  and  love.  We  appeal 
to  the  thoughtful,  the  aspiring,  the  generous  every 
where,  who  wish  to  see  the  reign  of  heavenly  truth 
triumphant  by  supplanting  the  infernal  discords  and 
falsehoods  on  which  modern  society  is  built,  for  their 
sympathy,  friendship,  and  practical  cooperation  in 
the  undertaking  which  we  announce  to-day. 

The  energy  with  which  Mr.  Ripley  threw 
himself  into  the  work  of  establishing  a  Phalanx 


BROOK  FARM.-FOURIERISM.  181 

at  Brook  Farm,  on  Fourier's  system,  may  be  in 
ferred  from  the  following  letter  of  Mr.  Brisbane, 
•which  belongs  to  this  period.  The  translations 
spoken  of  were  made  from  the  writings  of  Fou 
rier,  and  may  be  found  in  the  second  volume  of 
the  "  Sociological  Series,"  published  in  New 
York  by  C.  P.  Somerby,  1876.  A  lecture  on 
Fourier,  mostly  biographical,  delivered  at  this 
time,  exists  in  manuscript ;  it  is  remarkable 
chiefly  for  its  charming  clearness  of  style,  and 
the  firm  conviction  of  its  tone,  but  makes  no  at 
tempt  at  exposition. 

NEW  YORK,  December  9,  1845. 

MY  DEAR  RIPLEY,  —  Yours  of  the  3d,  post-marked 
the  5th,  came  to  hand  yesterday.  I  note  all  its  con 
tents  in  relation  to  your  views  upon  the  necessity  of 
developing  Brook  Farm.  The  reason  why  I  have 
spoken  in  some  of  my  last  letters  of  the  best  means 
of  bringing  B.  F.  to  a  close,  and  making  preparations 
for  a  trial  under  more  favorable  circumstances,  is 
this :  In  the  middle  of  November  I  received  a  letter 
from  Charles  Dana,  in  which,  in  speaking  of  the  va- 
rioloid,  he  stated  the  difficulties  you  have  to  contend 
with,  and  expressed  fears  for  the  future  in  such  a 
way,  that  I  concluded  you  had  made  up  your  minds 
to  bring  things  to  a  close.  I  feared  that  Morton 
might  be  foreclosing  his  mortgage,  which  would  be* 
a  most  serious  affair.  This  was  the  cause  of  my  ad 
verting  to  a  possible  dissolution,  and  the  necessity  of 
looking  ahead  to  meet  in  the  best  and  most  proper 
manner  such  a  contingency. 


182  GEORGE  RIFLE  Y. 

As  to  my  opinion  of  what  is  to  be  done,  it  is  easily 
explained.  1st.  We  must  raise  a  sufficient  amount  of 
capital.  —  and  the  amount  must  not  be  small.  2d. 
When  that  is  secured,  we  must  prepare  and  work  out 
a  plan  of  scientific  organization,  sufficiently  complete 
in  its  details  to  serve  as  a  guide  in  organizing  an  As 
sociation.  For  my  own  part,  I  feel  no  capability 
whatever  of  directing  an  Association  by  discipline,  by 
ideas  of  duty,  moral  suasion,  and  other  similar  means. 
I  want  organization  ;  I  want  a  mechanism  suited  and 
adapted  to  human  nature,  so  that  human  nature  can 
follow  its  laws  and  affections,  and  go  rightly,  and  be 
its  own  guide.  I  might  do  something  in  directing 
such  an  organization,  but  would  be  useless  in  any 
other  way.  As  we  all  like  to  be  active,  I  should  like 
exceedingly  to  take  part  in  and  help  construct  a  sci 
entific  organization.  How  can  we  raise  the  capital 
necessary  to  do  something  effectual  ?  I  see  but  two 
ways.  The  first,  is  for  Channing  and  me  —  and  if  he 
will  not  do  it  then  for  you  and  me — if  you  could 
possibly  engage  in  it,  to  lecture  patiently  and  perse- 
veringly  in  various  parts  of  the  country  —  having  the 
translation  of  Fourier  with  us  —  and  continue  at  this 
work  until  we  have  enlisted  and  interested  men 
enough  who  will  subscribe  each  a  certain  sum  suffi 
cient  to  form  the  fund  we  deem  necessary.  Patience 
and  perseverance  would  do  this.  One  hundred  men 
who  would  subscribe  $1,000  each  would  give  us  a 
fine  capital.  Something  effectual,  I  think,  might  be 
done  with  such  an  amount;  less  than  that  I  fear 
would  be  patch-work.  Second.  If  Channing  or  you 


BROOK  FARM.—FOURIERISM.  183 

cannot  engage  in  this  enterprise,  then  I  shall  see 
what  I  can  do  alone.  I  shall  make  first  the  trial  of 
the  steel  business  ;  things  will  now  soon  be  deter 
mined,  probably  in  a  few  weeks  ;  there  are  chances 
that  it  may  be  a  great  thing.  If  that  turns  out  noth 
ing,  then  I  shall  take  Fourier's  work  and  do  some 
thing  of  what  I  propose  you,  or  Channing,  and  I 
should  do  together.  If  nothing  can  be  done  in  this 
way,  then  I  shall  wait  patiently  until  I  can  get  my 
father  to  embark  with  his  fortune,  or  come  into  thfa 
control  of  it  —  I  do  not  mean  the  capital,  but  the  in 
come,  which  will  be  large,  ere  long.  Such  are  my 
prospects.  If  the  capital  can  be  had,  where  shall  we 
organize,  you  will  ask  ?  That  is  a  thing  to  be  care 
fully  considered,  and  which  we  cannot  decide  at  pres 
ent.  Placed  under  the  circumstances  you  are,  all 
these  speculations  will  appear  foreign  to  the  subject 
that  interests  you,  and  useless. 

You  want  capital,  and  immediately,  for  B.  F.  Now 
it  seems  to  me  a  problem  as  perplexing  to  get  $15,000 
for  B.  F.,  as  it  does  to  raise  $100,000.  Where  can  it 
be  had  ?  The  New  Yorkers,  who  have  money,  are 
all  interested  and  pledged  to  raise  $10,000  for  the  N. 
A.  P.,  to  pay  off  its  mortgage.  You  might  as  well 
undertake  to  raise  dead  men,  as  to  obtain  any  consid 
erable  amount  of  capital  from  the  people  here.  I 
have  tried  it  so  often  that  I  know  the  difficulties. 
The  fact  is,  we  have  a  great  work  to  accomplish  — 
that  of  organizing  an  Association,  and  to  do  it  we 
must  have  the  means  adequate  to  the  task,  and  to  get 
these  means  we  must  make  the  most  persevering  and 


184  GEORGE  RIPLET. 

Herculean  efforts.  We  must  go  at  the  thing  in  ear 
nest,  and  labor  until  we  have  secured  the  means.  I 
really  see  no  other  way  or  avenue  to  success ;  if  you 
do,  I  should  be  glad  to  hear  your  explanations  of  it. 
Fifteen  thousand  dollars  might  do  a  good  deal  at  B. 
F.,  but  would  it  do  the  thing  effectually,  that  is,  make 
a  trial  that  would  impress  the  public?  —  and  for 
anything  short  of  that,  none  of  us,  I  suppose,  would 
labor. 

We  are  surrounded  by  great  difficulties.  I  see  no 
immediate  chance  of  obtaining  a  capital  sufficient  for 
a  good  experiment,  and  until  we  have  the  capital  to 
organize  upon  quite  a  complete  scale,  I  should  say 
that  it  would  be  a  very  great  misfortune  to  dissolve 
B.  F.  No  uncertain  prospects  should  exercise  any 
influence ;  the  means  must  be  had  in  hand  before  we 
make  any  decisive  movement  towards  a  removal,  or 
organizing  in  a  more  favorable  location  —  even  if  you 
were  perfectly  willing  to  leave  New  England  and  the 
neighborhood  of  Boston.  As  I  said,  I  spoke  of  it 
and  should  be  urged  to  make  at  once  the  greatest 
efforts  to  obtain  capital,  only  under  the  fear  that  cir 
cumstances  might  force  a  crisis  upon  you. 

I  have  touched  merely  upon  generalities  to-day ; 
after  further  correspondence,  I  will  write  you  more  in 
Detail.  I  will  also  come  on  and  see  you,  if  you  deem 
it  advisable.  The  steel  experiment  keeps  me  here  at 
present.  I  think  that  next  week  I  shall  test  it.  I  am 
getting  a  furnace  built  expressly.  I  am  deeply  re- 
ioiced  to  hear  that  you  are  getting  on  so  well  with  the 
translation,  and  expect  also  to  hear  you  say,  that  you 


BROOK  FARM.—FOURIERISM.  185 

wonder  that  we  have  done  without  it  so  long.  It 
must  be  the  means  of  converting  the  minds  of  those 
we  most  want,  and  which  we  have  not  yet  been  able 
to  reach.  Push  it  ahead  as  far  as  possible.  I  have 
perfect  confidence  that  you  can  translate  it  better 
than  any  one  else  in  the  world,  and  it  has  been  left 
for  you  to  do. 

I  will  forward  what  can  be  collected  the  first  mo 
ment  that  it  can  be  obtained.  I  have  not  received  a 
second  letter  from  D wight ;  if  he  has  written,  it  has 
not  yet  come  to  hand.  Come  on  with  him  by  all 
means,  if  you  can,  or  without  him,  if  he  cannot  come, 
or  I  cannot  make  my  arrangements  here  for  the  en 
terprise  which  will  call  him  to  New  York. 

Please  present  my  kindest  and  most  respectful  re 
gards  to  Mrs.  Ripley,  and  believe  me  as  ever, 
Your  true  friend, 

A.  BRISBANE. 

"  The  Harbinger  "  lived  nearly  four  years,  a 
little  more  than  two  at  Brook  Farm,  less  than 
two  in  New  York.  The  last  number  was  issued 
on  the  10th  of  February,  1849.  It  was  a  weekly 
sheet,  mainly  written  by  Brook  Farm  men, 
and  to  the  last  edited  by  Mr.  Ripley,  whose 
articles,  to  say  nothing  in  disparagement  of  the 
rest,  showed  a  warmth  of  heart,  an  earnestness 
of  soul,  a  clearness  of  mind  and  a  force  of  state 
ment  which  proved  the  man's  utter  sincerity  in 
the  cause. 

The  published  writings  of  this  period  illus- 


186  GEORGE  RIPLET. 

trate  the  fine  enthusiasm  which  animated  the 
man,  but  they  do  not  exhibit  the  affection  that 
he  felt  for  the  least  of  those  who  shared  in  any 
degree  his  zeal  for  humanity.  The  letter  which 
is  now  printed,  written  in  answer  to  a  friendly 
missive  from  a  Brook  Farm  pupil,  now  a  mar 
ried  woman  in  a  western  city,  supplies  this  de 
ficiency.  It  was  found  among  the  few  papers 
that  he  preserved  of  that  happy  time :  - 

March  0,  1880. 

MY  DEAR , — I  can  never  think  of  you  undar 

any  other  name  than  that  which  so  deeply  interested 
me  in  your  childhood,  in  spite  of  what  you  tell  me  of 
your  "dear,  kind  husband,"  and  your  four  blooming 
sons  and  daughters.  It  is  not  too  much  to  say  that 
your  charming  letter  gave  me  a  thrill  of  pleasure, 
recalling  so  vividly  the  by-gone  days,  when  a  child 
in  mind  and  appearance  but  a  woman  in  thought  and 
feeling,  your  original  and  racy  character  awakened 
in  me  an  interest,  "a  real  affection,"  as  you  justly 
called  it,  which  has  never  for  one  moment  been 
dimmed  from  that  time  to  the  present.  I  rejoice 
more  than  I  can  tell  you  in  the  kindly  and  beautiful 
remembrances  which  I  am  constantly  receiving  from 
my  old  pupils  and  associates  of  the  Brook  Farm  life, 
which  was  then  only  a  name  for  an  enthusiastic  en 
deavor  for  a  purer  and  better  social  state,  but  which 
has  since  become  celebrated  in  romance  and  history 
Among  my  own  most  precious  recollections  are  those 
of  your  beloved  and  honored  family,  of  whom  Flor 


BROOK  FARM.—FOURIERISM.  187 

ence  is  the  only  one  with  whom  I  have  kept  a  per 
sonal  intercourse,  and  which  has  always  been  in  the 
higlust  degree  pleasant  and  satisfactory.  You  do 
not  know  that  soon  after  your  visit  to  Mrs.  Manning, 
now  more  than  twenty  years  ago,  my  wife  was  at 
tacked  with  a  fatal  disease,  and  died  in  the  early  part 
of  1861.  About  five  years  after  I  was  married  to  a 
German  lady,  several  years  younger  than  myself,  of 
admirable  character  and  great  personal  attractions, 
who  has  given  a  charm  to  my  life  for  the  past  fourteen 
years.  I  have  nearly  reached  the  limit  of  Tour-score 
years,  but  I  find  that  age  thus  far  makes  little  differ 
ence  in  my  attachment  to  early  friends,  in  my  enjoy 
ment  of  life,  or  in  my  intellectual  activity.  I  beg 
you  to  present  my  cordial  greetings  to  your  husband, 
who  will  possess  the  esteem  which  I  cherish  for 
yourself,  and  my  sincere  love  ( for  your  sake  )  to  the 
dear  children,  who  have  honored  me  with  their  kind 
request.  I  regret  that  I  have  no  photograph,  as  I 
have  been  unwilling  to  sit  for  one  for  many  years  as 
they  are  all  such  fearful  caricatures,  and  at  present 
especially  I  could  only  offer  the  "ashes  of  roses," 
which  would  be  an  unworthy  gift  to  one  who  remem 
bers  the  flower  in  the  fullness  of  its  maturity. 

It  is  unnecessary  to  speculate  on  the  causes 
of  the  failure  at  Brook  Farm.  There  was 
every  reason  why  it  should  fail ;  there  was  no 
earthly,  however  much  heavenly,  reason  there 
may  have  been,  why  it  should  succeed.  Like 
similar  enterprises  elsewhere  it  was  untimely, 


188  GEORGE  RIP  LEY. 

and  whatever  is  untimely  is  already  doomed  to 
perish.  The  principle  is  established  that  human 
progress  is  gradual,  by  slow  stages,  evil  by  de 
grees  yielding  to  good,  the  spiritual  succeeding 
the  natural  by  almost  imperceptible  processes 
of  amelioration ;  so  that  all  attempts  miscarry 
which  aim  at  results,  but  disregard  the  steps 
by  which  results  are  reached.  Mankind  are 
repelled,  as  by  an  instinct,  from  undertakings 
that  are  not  founded  on  the  visible  sequence  of 
cause  and  effect.  Capital  avoids  them.  Prac 
tical  ability  shuns  them.  Neither  ambition  nor 
thrift  will  take  part  in  them.  The  world,  no 
doubt,  is  selfish  ;  but  so  long  as  it  is  providen 
tially  so,  so  long  as  selfishness  is  one  of  the 
stubborn  conditions  of  advance  in  righteous 
ness,  to  complain  of  it  is  idle,  however  strenu 
ously  one  may  resist  it. 

To  those  who  think  that  Brook  Farm  failed 
through  lack  of  organization,  it  may  be  replied 
that  it  failed  quite  as  probably  through  having 
too  much.  The  introduction  of  Fourierism, 
from  which  so  much  was  expected,  proved  in 
the  end  unfortunate.  It  frightened  away  ideal 
ists  whose  presence  had  given  to  the  spot  its 
chief  attraction,  and  injured  the  pastoral  bloom 
which  beautified  it.  The  reputation  of  Brook 
Farm  for  brilliancy,  wit,  harmless  eccentricity, 
was  seriously  compromised.  The  joyous  spirit 


BROOK  FARM.—  FOURIERISM. 

of  youth  was  sobered.  The  outside  community 
henceforth  regarded  the  enterprise  as  a  me 
chanical  attempt  to  reform  society  rather  than 
as  a  poetic  attempt  to  regenerate  it.  Fourier- 
ism  brought  in  a  new  set  of  theorists,  quite  as 
unpractical,  and  much  less  sunny. 

The  fire,  which  destroyed  the  only  "  phalan 
stery,"  on  the  evening  of  March  3,  1846,  was 
a  severe  blow,  —  more  severe  than  the  people 
admitted.  The  edifice  was  commenced  in  the 
summer  of  1844,  and  was  in  progress  until 
November,  1845,  when  work  was  suspended  for 
the  winter.  It  was  resumed  on  the  very  day 
of  the  fire,  which  was  caused  by  a  defect  in  the 
construction  of  a  chimney.  The  structure  was 
of  wood,  one  hundred  and  seventy-five  feet  long, 
three  stories  high,  with  spacious  attics,  divided 
into  pleasant  and  convenient  rooms  for  single 
persons.  The  second  and  third  stories  were 
broken  up  into  fourteen  "  apartments,"  inde 
pendent  of  each  other,  each  comprising  a  parlor 
and  three  sleeping  rooms,  connected  by  piazzas 
which  ran  the  whole  length  of  the  building  on 
both  stories.  The  basement  contained  a  large 
kitchen,  a  dining-hall  capable  of  seating  from 
three  to  four  hundred  persons,  two  public  sa 
loons,  together  with  a  spacious  hall  and  lecture- 
room.  Although  by  no  means  a  complete  model 
for  a  phalanstery,  it  was  well  adapted  to  imme- 


190  GEORGE  RIPLET. 

diate  purposes,  delightfully  situated,  and  pleas 
ing  to  the  eye.  About  $7,000  in  all,  including 
the  labor  of  the  associates,  had  been  expended 
on  the  building  ;  it  was  estimated  that  $3,000 
more  would  render  it  fit  for  its  uses.  There 
was  no  insurance  on  it.  The  loss,  which  was 
total,  fell  upon  the  holders  of  partnership  stock 
and  the  members  of  the  Association.  Notwith 
standing  the  gallant  spirit  in  which  the  calam 
ity  was  met,  the  loss  was  serious.  There  was 
a  disposition  on  the  part  of  the  more  sanguine 
to  make  light  of  the  disaster;  the  earnest  souls 
fell  back  on  their  heroism  and  vowed  to  perse 
vere  in  spite  of  all  discouragements.  The  noble 
president  thanked  the  firemen,  who  had  come 
from  neighboring  towns,  cheered  the  heart  of 
the  desponding,  and  even  drew  consolation  from 
the  thought  that  the  building  had  not  become 
endeared  to  them  by  association  ;  —  but  it  was 
in  vain.  The  blow  was  staggering.  Councils 
of  deliberation  were  held.  Discussion  was  long 
and  heated.  Proposals  to  dissolve  were  voted 
down  by  men  who  in  their  hearts  felt  that 
dissolution  was  inevitable.  The  boldest  hoped 
against  hope.  It  may  be  true  that  the  confla 
gration  was  not  the  immediate  cause  of  the  en 
suing  disorganization  ;  but  that  it  was  a  proxi 
mate  cause  of  it  can  hardly  be  doubted.  Cer 
tain  it  is  that  from  that  moment  the  thoughts 


BROOK  FARM.  —  FOURIERISM.      191 

of  many  turned  away  from  Brook  Farm.  It 
was  harder  than  ever  to  obtain  capital.  There 
was  no  demand  for  stock.  It  is  more  than  likely 
that  Mr.  Greeley's  interest  was  diverted  to 
wards  projects  nearer  New  York,  which  looked 
more  promising,  which  at  any  rate  were  more 
convenient,  and  which  seemed  to  have  before 
them  a  future.  On  Brook  Farm  itself  few  at 
tacks,  either  public  or  private,  were  made.  Its 
purpose  was  so  sincere,  its  conduct  so  irre 
proachable,  its  devotion  to  ends  purely  humane 
so  evident,  that  malice  could  find  no  grounds 
for  assailing  it.  The  evil  eyes  that  were  turned 
on  it  at  last  were  perhaps  sharpened  by  polit 
ical  animosity  towards  Mr.  Greeley,  whose  un 
popularity  it  was  compelled  to  share.  The  lash 
of  partisan  spite,  it  was  found,  could  be  made 
to  reach  him  if  aimed  over  the  shoulders  of  a 
scheme  which  lent  itself  so  readily  to  ridicule. 

It  is  not  worth  while  to  do  more  than  men 
tion  certain  disadvantages  of  Brook  Farm  which 
might  in  any  case  have  impeded  its  success,  but 
which,  under  the  circumstances,  cannot  be  held 
in  any  considerable  measure  accountable  for  its 
failure.  The  soil  was  not,  on  the  whole,  favor 
able  to  profitable  tillage;  it  needed  manuring, 
which  was  costly,  because  hard  to  get.  There 
was  no  water-power  available.  Railroad  com 
munication  with  the  city  was  infrequent ;  so 


192  GEORGE  RIPLET. 

that  the  heavy  work  of  transportation  had  to  be 
done  by  wagon.  Local  industries  in  the  neigh 
borhood  were  inadequate  to  stimulate  a  demand 
for  various  labor.  Such  obstacles  might  have 
been  overcome  by  capital  or  by  trained  skill, 
but  both  of  these  would  have  been  needed,  and 
neither  of  them  was  supplied.  The  consequence 
was  a  result  that  was  rather  aesthetic  than  mer 
cenary,  a  harvest  that  could  be  "  gathered  in  a 
song."  The  idealists  lingered  last,  loath  to 
leave  a  spot  endeared  by  so  many  associations, 
hallowed  by  so  many  hopes.  One  of  the  last 
to  go,  one  of  the  saddest  of  heart,  one  of  the 
most  self-sacrificing  through  it  all,  was  John  S. 
D  wight.  It  may  be  truly  said  that  Brook  Farm 
died  in  music. 

To  Mr.  Ripley  the  disappointment  must  have 
been  bitter.  How  bitter  is  evident  from  the 
fact  that  he  never  referred  to  Brook  Farm  ex 
cept  in  intimate  conversation  with  his  old  com 
rades,  or  with  one  to  whom  he  could  unbosom 
his  soul.  At  times  he  spoke  of  it  in  terms  of 
banter  such  as  one  may  use  to  conceal  deep  feel 
ing  ;  at  other  times,  though  this  was  rare,  he 
dwelt  with  solemnity  on  the  aims  which  sent 
him  thither  and  kept  him  there  doing  the  work 
ne  did  for  so  many  years.  His  faith  in  the 
principles  involved  remained  with  him  through 
his  life.  About  a  year  before  his  death  he  ex 


BROOK  FARM.  —  FOURIERISM.  193 

pressed  an  earnest  conviction  of  the  truth  of 
the  primary  ideas  laid  down  by  Fourier,  and  a 
belief  that  some  of  his  predictions  were  coming 
true.  Later  still  he  declared  his  persuasion 
that  the  highest  visions  he  had  ever  entertained 
must  be  fulfilled  in  due  time.  His  weak  ex 
periment  had  come  to  nothing,  but  the  truth 
it  sought  to  serve  survived.  He  cast  no  blame 
upon  the  constitution  of  the  world,  none  upon 
his  fellow-men.  His  own  mistake  he  might  be 
sorry  for,  but  of  the  undertaking  he  could  not 
feel  ashamed.  Of  one  thing  he  could  be  cer 
tain  :  of  his  own  singleness  of  purpose,  of  his 
own  integrity  of  will.  His  studies  in  the  phi 
losophy  of  history  had  been  profound ;  he  had 
read  much  and  thought  much,  though  he  had 
written  little.  As  a  man  of  letters  his  activity 
had  been  hardly  perceptible,  but  as  a  man  of 
mind  it  was  of  permanent  value,  and  his  subse 
quent  service  as  a  man  of  letters  was  greatly 
indebted  to  the  experience  acquired  at  Brook 
Farm. 

The  crushing  difficulties  were,  as  will  have 
been  comprehended  long  ere  this,  financial; 
these  pressed  more  and  more  heavily,  month 
by  month,  and  at  length  could  not  be  breasted. 
The  catastrophe  came  from  this  quarter,  and  in 
such  manner  as  the  accompanying  documents 
explain. 

13 


194  GEORGE  RIPLET. 

BROOK  FARM,  March  4,  1847. 

Minutes  of  a  meeting  held  this  day  pursuant  to  a 
call  in  writing,  through  the  post-office  to  each  of  the 
stockholders  and  creditors  of  the  Brook  Farm  Pha 
lanx.  The  following  persons  being  present,  namely, 
G.  Ripley,  J.  M.  Palisse,  Jno.  Hoxie,  Francis  G. 
Shaw,  Geo.  R.  Russell,  S.  Butterfield,  N.  Colton,  P. 
N.  Kleinstrup.  G.  Ripley  in  the  chair.  J.  M.  Palisse 
was  chosen  Secretary. 

After  a  verbal  statement  from  G.  Ripley  respecting 
the  present  condition  of  the  Phalanx,  it  was  voted 
unanimously,  that  Geo.  Ripley  be  authorized  to  let 
the  Farm  for  one  year  from  March  1st,  for  $350 ; 
and  the  Keith  lot  for  $100  or  more,  with  such  condi 
tions  and  reservations  as  he  may  deem  best  for  the 
interest  of  the  stockholders. 

Adjourned. 

J.  M.  PALISSE,  Secretary. 

BROOK  FARM,  August  18,  1847. 

Minutes  of  a  meeting  of  the  stockholders  and 
creditors  of  the  Brook  Farm  Phalanx,  held  pursuant 
to  due  notice  given  to  all  parties  by  George  Ripley. 
Present:  Geo.  Ripley,  Theodore  Parker,  Samuel 
Teal,  P.  N.  Kleinstrup,  A.  Kay,  J.  M.  Palisse; 
Amelia  Russell,  Mary  Ann  Ripley. 

J.  M.  Palisse  was  appointed  Secretary  of  the 
meeting.  Theodore  Parker  read  a  letter  from  G. 
R.  Russell,  authorizing  the  former  to  represent  him 
and  vote  at  this  meeting.  It  was  then  voted  unani 
mously  :  that  the  President  of  the  Phalanx  be.,  and 


BROOK  FARM.  —  FOURIERISM.      195 

is  hereby  authorized,  to  transfer  to  a  Board  of  Three 
Trustees  the  whole  property  of  the  Corporation  for 
the  purpose  and  with  power  of  disposing  of  it  to  the 
best  advantage  of  all  concerned. 

Voted  unanimously,  that  Messrs.  T.  Parker,  G.  R. 
Russell,  and  Samuel  P.  Teal  compose  that  Board  of 
Trustees. 

Voted  unanimously,  that  said  Board  of  Trustees  has 
power  to  add  Mr.  Francis  Jackson  or  some  suitable 
person  to  its  number,  or  employ  him  as  its  agent  in 
the  management  of  the  business  confided  to  its  care. 

Adjourned. 

J.  M.  PALISSE,  Secretary. 

The  devoted  wife,  who  had  toiled  unflinch 
ingly  by  her  husband's  side,  lending  the  wings 
of  her  ardent  feeling  to  the  steady  momentum 
of  his  resolute  will,  was  betraying  signs  of  phys 
ical  and  mental  exhaustion.  In  1846,  the  treas 
ured  books  were  sold  at  auction,  carrying  with 
them  a  purpose  never  again  to  collect  a  library, 
since  never  again  could  books  mean  to  bim 
what  those  bad  meant.  On  the  transference  of 
"  The  Harbinger "  to  New  York  in  1847,  the 
home  was  removed  from  West  Roxbury  to  the 
village  of  Flatbusb,  on  Long  Island.  There  Mrs. 
Ripley  earned  money  by  teaching,  while  be  pur 
sued  bis  editorial  labors  in  a  bare,  upper  room 
of  the  old  Tribune  building.  Discomfort  in  ev 
ery  form  was  his  portion.  His  chief  recreation 


196  GEORGE  RIPLEY. 

was  a  frequent  visit  to  Coney  Island,  then  less 
gay  and  less  respectable  than  it  is  now,  and  a 
plunge  in  the  lonely  surf.  His  daily  companion 
'was  toil.  His  consolation  was  the  fidelity  of  a 
few  friends  and  the  loyal  affection  of  his  wife. 
His  support  was  the  never-failing  determina 
tion  to  do  his  duty  and  the  uplifting  strength 
of  an  aspiration  which  was  never  clouded  for 
more  than  a  moment.  A  friend  who  knew  him 
well  during  this  time  speaks  with  feeling  of  the 
cheerful  courage  with  which  he  bore  his  for 
tune,  and  the  sweetness  with  which  he  met  the 
onset  of  calamity.  Without  jar  or  fret,  jocund 
in  circumstances  that  would  have  broken  ordi 
nary  men,  he  moved  through  the  laborious 
weeks,  in  his  home  a  daily  sunshine,  in  his 
office  a  perpetual  serenity  which  concealed  a 
secret  sadness  so  effectually  that  only  the  most 
intimate  could  suspect  its  existence.  In  later 
life  he  told  with  humor  to  the  writer  of  these 
lines  how,  after  an  attack  of  illness  which  took 
him  away  from  his  office  for  some  weeks,  he 
returned  to  find  the  room  deserted.  "  The  Har 
binger  "  had  ended  a  promising  but  precarious 
existence,  and  he  was  without  place  or  employ 
ment  in  the  world. 

The  following  verses,  which  belong  to  this 
period,  —  the  only  lines,  so  far  as  is  known, 
that  he  ever  wrote,  —  tell  of  his  frame  of  mind. 


BROOK  FARM.  -  FO URIERISM.  197 

They  are  copied  from  "  The  Christian  Exam 
iner  "  for  May,  1847:  — 

"THE  ANGELS   OF   THE   PAST." 

My  buried  days!  —  in  bitter  tears 

I  sit  beside  your  tomb, 
And  ghostly  forms  of  vanished  years 

Flit  through  my  spirit's  gloom. 

In  throngs  around  my  soul  they  press, 

They  fill  my  dreamy  sight 
With  visions  of  past  loveliness 

And  shapes  of  lost  delight. 

Like  angels  of  the  Lord  they  move 

Each  on  his  mystic  way, — 
These  blessed  messengers  of  love, 

These  heralds  of  the  day. 

And  as  they  pass,  the  conscious  air 

Is  stirred  to  music  round, 
And  a  murmur  of  harmonious  prayer 

Is  breathed  along  the  ground. 

And  sorrow  dies  from  out  my  heart 

In  exhalations  sweet, 
And  the  bands  of  life,  which  she  did  part, 

In  blessed  union  meet. 

The  past  and  future  o'er  my  head 
Their  sacred  grasp  entwine, 


198  GEORGE  RIFLE Y. 

And  the  eyes  of  all  the  holy  dead 
Around,  before  me,  shine. 

And  I  rise  to  life  and  duty, 
From  nights  of  fear  and  death, 

With  a  deeper  sense  of  beauty 
And  fuller  strength  of  faith. 


CHAPTER  V. 

LABOR. 

ON  the  breaking  np  of  Brook  Farm,  and  the 
decease  of  "  The  Harbinger,"  Mr.  Ripley  was 
thrown  altogether  on  his  literary  resources.  In 
every  other  direction  his  outlook  was  dark.  He 
had  made  two  ventures,  neither  of  which  had 
met  his  anticipations.  He  had  reached  the  pe 
riod  of  life  when  the  thoughts  turn  backward. 
He  was  poorer  than  poor,  for  he  was  in  debt. 
His  noble  wife  had  lost  her  faith  in  the  ideas 
that  had  sustained  them  both  in  much  hardship, 
and  from  the  point  of  another  creed,  the  Ro 
man  Catholic,  regarded  the  associative  experi 
ment  as  unfortunate.  What  remained  to  him 
was  himself,  his  mind,  his  training,  his  power 
with  the  pen,  his  determination  to  achieve  in 
other  fields  what  he  had  failed  as  yet  to  accom 
plish. 

His  first  energies  were  directed  to  the  task 
of  working  himself  clear  of  the  pecuniary  re 
sponsibility  for  Brook  Farm.  How  great  this 
was  cannot  now  be  accurately  determined.  For 
a  man  of  ample  means  it  would  have  been  tri- 


200  GEORGE  RIP  LET. 

fling,  but  for  him  it  was  heavy.  There  is  evi 
dence  that  for  more  than  ten  years  this  bur 
den  was  upon  him.  The  last  receipt  was  for 
groceries,  paid  for  in  part  by  money,  in  part  by 
a  copy  of  the  "  Cyclopaedia,"  in  1862,  Decem 
ber  22.  The  number  of  claimants  was  thirty- 
three.  Of  these,  seven  withdrew.  After  the 
claims  had  been  sifted  and  all  compromises 
made,  the  sums  due  amounted  to  a  little  more 
than  one  thousand  dollars. 

Mr.  Ripley's  connection  with  "  The  Tribune  " 
began  immediately  on  the  cessation  of  "  The 
Harbinger,"  but  was  not  at  first  lucrative,  for 
the  paper  was  still  young,  having  been  estab 
lished  in  1841,  and  a  literary  department  was 
not  as  yet  organized.  Subsequently  the  man 
made  the  place,  but  for  several  years  the  jour 
nal,  afterwards  so  distinguished  as  a  tribunal  of 
letters,  took  a  modest  position.  There  was  at 
this  time  no  such  thing  as  systematic  criticism 
of  literary  work  in  a  daily  paper.  The  man 
of  letters  wrote  books.  Of  literary  magazines 
there  were  not  many.  "  Harper's  New  Monthly 
Magazine  "  was  ushered  into  being  in  1850  ;  the 
first  number  of  "  Putnam's  Monthly  "  was  is 
sued  in  January,  1853.  The  leading  writers 
were  either  men  of  means,  or  had  earned  a  com 
petency  by  the  sale  of  more  ambitious  works,  — 
romances,  histories,  poems,  sketches  of  travel, 


LABOR.  201 

. —  or  were  contented  to  live  in  retirement  with 
out  money.  Literature,  the  current  literature  of 
the  day,  the  literature  which  fed  the  multitude, 
offered  but  a  precarious  subsistence,  and  no 
hope  of  fame.  In  fact,  the  multitude  had  no 
literature  deserving  the  name.  There  was  little 
general  knowledge  of  books,  opinions,  or  char 
acters.  Intelligence  was  confined  to  concerns 
of  a  material  order ;  the  world  of  thought  was 
not  yet  open  to  the  many.  To  earn  a  liveli 
hood  by  his  pen;  and  not  merely  to  earn  a 
livelihood,  but  to  pay  debts ;  and  not  merely  to 
do  this,  but  to  create  a  fame,  to  erect  a  stand 
ard,  and  establish  a  permanent  demand  for  the 
best  thought  and  the  best  expression,  to  make 
knowledge  a  public  necessity,  as  it  had  been  a 
private  luxury,  was  the  task  which  George  Rip- 
ley  accomplished.  Not  that  he  contemplated 
such  an  achievement  when  he  began ;  the  drift 
of  the  time  was  setting  in  a  literary  direction, 
and  gave  him  opportunities  that  he  could  not 
have  anticipated ;  still  he  did  more  than  any 
man  to  stimulate  that  tendency,  and  to  him  is 
largely  due  the  substitution  of  an  exact,  critical 
method,  in  place  of  the  sentimental  mood  which 
was  earlier  in  vogue.  He  wrote  from  observa 
tion,  reading,  knowledge,  not  from  feeling  or 
fancy.  From  the  first  he  did  this.  His  train 
ing  at  school  and  college ;  his  years  of  experi- 


202  GEORGE  RIPLEY. 

ence  in  an  exacting  profession  ;  his  exercise  in 
reviews  and  controversies  ;  his  familiarity  with 
the  best  productions  of  American,  English,  Ger 
man,  and  French  genius  ;  the  severe  mental  and 
moral  discipline  of  Brook  Farm,  all  conspired 
with  a  remarkable  firmness  and  moderation  of 
temperament,  to  repress  any  impulse  towards 
affectation  or  undue  exhilaration  of  judgment, 
•while  his  natural  buoyancy  of  spirits,  his  in 
born  kindness  of  heart,  his  knowledge  of  intel 
lectual  difficulties,  and  his  sympathy  with  even 
modest  aspirations,  saved  him  from  moroseness, 
and  rendered  it  impossible  for  him  to  ply  with 
severity  the  scourge  of  criticism. 

His  earliest  experience  in  journalism  was  of 
the  hardest.  In  the  spring  of  1849  he  moved 
to  New  York  from  Flatbush.  At  this  time  he 
spent  a  few  hours  daily  in  the  office  of  "  The 
Tribune  "  as  "  literary  assistant,"  — a  "  caterer 
of  intelligence  in  all  languages  but  the  vernac 
ular."  He  had  no  leisure  for  such  work  as  he 
^wished  to  do  —  to  review  Morell's  "  Philoso 
phy  of  Religion,"  for  example  ;  or  Hickock's 
"  Psychology"  for  his  friend  Parker's  "Massa 
chusetts  Quarterly  ;  "  but  u  everything  is  so 
overlaid  by  filigree,  spangles,  bits  of  mica,  and 
so  forth  in  the  form  of  short  book  notices,  cor 
respondence,  and  other  machinery,  by  which 
brain  is  turned  into  bread,"  that  he  makes  ex 


LABOR.  203 

cuses  for  not  obliging  his  dearest  friend.    Thus 
he  writes  on  the  9th  of  July,  1849  :  — 

MY  DEAR  THEODORE,  —  My  article  on  Dr.  Bush- 
nell  has  not  got  written,  and  of  course  not  sent. 
Since  I  heard  from  you  last  I  have  made  a  new  ar 
rangement  with  "  The  Tribune,"  and  now  have  a  reg 
ular  "  bureau  "  in  that  office  as  assistant  editor.  This 
so  binds  me  to  the  flying  wings  of  the  daily  press, 
that  I  can  make  no  engagements  of  a  more  responsi 
ble  character,  and  of  course  must  forego  the  satisfac 
tion  of  being  one  of  your  regular  contributors.  I 
still  hope,  however,  that  I  may  wake  up  some  fine 
day  and  write  you  an  article  on  some  subject  purely 
literary,  as  I  am  more  and  more  convinced  that  theol 
ogy  is  beyond  my  depth.  I  will  make  no  more  prom 
ises,  and  cause  no  more  disappointment. 

My  present  duties  are  quite  to  my  taste,  and  give 
me  a  moderate  livelihood.  Ever  yours,  faithfully, 

GEORGE  RIPLEY. 

What  his  idea  was  of  a  moderate  livelihood 
may  be  surmised  from  the  following  statement, 
copied  word  for  word  from  the  pay-roll  of  the 
paper  by  one  of  the  officials  :  — 

On  the  week  ending  May  5,  1849,  Mr.  Ripley  was 
paid  $5.00  for  services  on  the  paper.  This  is  the 
first  time  that  he  appears. 

The  following  week,  ending  May  12,  his  name  does 
not  appear. 

On  May  19,  the  week  following,  he  was  paid 
$5.00. 


204  GEORGE  RIFLE Y. 

On  May  2G,  the  week  following,  his  name  does  not 
appear. 
.  On  June  2  he  was  paid  $5.00. 

His  name  does  not  appear  again  until  June  23,  a 
gap  of  two  weeks,  when  he  was  paid  $5.00. 

On  June  30,  1849,  he  was  paid  $8.00. 

His  name  does  not  appear  again  until  July  14, 
1849,  when  he  was  paid  $10.00,  and  from  that  date 
until  September  1,  1849,  he  was  paid  weekly  $10.00. 

On  September  1,  1849,  he  was  paid  $15.00. 
Thereafter,  until  April  6,  1850,  he  received  $10.00 
per  week. 

On  April  6,  1850,  and  until  September  21,  1851, 
he  received  $15.00  per  week. 

On  September  21,  1851,  his  salary  was  placed  on 
the  pay-roll  at  $25.00,  and  remained  thus  until  Jan 
uary  1C,  18G4,  with  the  exception  of  the  week  ending 
October  4,  18/il,  wln'ii  lu«  \v:is  paid  only  $15.00. 

On  January  16,  1864,  he  was  paid  $30.00,  and  his 
salary  continued  $30.00  per  week  until  January, 
1866,  when  it  was  raised  to  $50.00,  and  it  remained 
at  that  sum  until  January  11,  1871,  when  it  was 
raised  to  the  sum  of  $75.00,  and  from  that  time  until 
his  death  he  was  paid  $75.00  per  wreek  for  his  ser 
vices. 

During  his  absence  in  Europe,  in  1869,  his  salary 
ceased,  and  lie  was  paid  for  the  letters  which  he 
wrote.  The  sum  so  paid  him  was  about  $30.00  per 
week.  This  was  done  by  his  own  solicitation.  He 
did  not  wish  to  receive  his  regular  salary  when  not 
at  work  at  the  office ;  but  desired  to  write  when  he 


LABOR.  205 

had  matter  to  write  about.  When  he  had  no  subject, 
or  when  he  did  not  feel  like  working,  he  would  not 
accept  of  pay. 

In  connection  with  the  increase  of  Mr.  Ripley's 
salary  in  1871,  the  following  extract  from  the  "  Min 
utes  Book  "  is  of  interest :  — 

"  Mr.  Greeley  proposed  the  following  :  — 

"  Resolved,  That  the  salary  of  Mr.  George  Ripley 
be  increased  from  $50.00  to  $75.00  per  week. 

"In  explanation,  he  [Mr.  Greeley]  said  that  his 
general  opposition  to  raising  the  salaries  of  stock 
holders  was  well-known.  He  thought  his  own  salary 
had  been  raised  unwisely,  and  had  so  said  at  the  time. 
Raising  one  salary  always  incites  a  claim  that  half  a 
dozen  others  should  be  raised  to  equalize  payment 
for  equal  service.  He  had  always  opposed,  and  al 
ways  would  oppose,  demands  for  additional  pay  based 
on  the  needs  of  the  claimant.  He  did  not  know 
whether  Dr.  Ripley  had  more  or  less  children  than 
John  Rodgers,  and  did  not  care.  He  moved  this  in 
crease  on  two  distinct  and  only  grounds :  I.  Dr.  Rip- 
ley  has  long  served  '  The  Tribune '  industriously 
and  faithfully,  and  has  won  a  high  reputation  for  its 
Literary  Department.  II.  He  [Mr.  Greeley]  de 
sired  more  work  of  Dr.  Ripley  than  he  had  hitherto 
done,  and  would  undertake,  if  the  resolution  pre 
vailed,  to  get  the  value  of  the  increase  out  of  the 
Doctor  in  good  honest  service." 

The  resolution  was  unanimously  adopted. 

On  December  28,  1849,  a  resolution  was  passed  by 
the  stockholders,  in  meeting  assembled,  permitting 


206  GEORGE  RIPLE7. 

Messrs.  George  Ripley,  Samuel  Sinclair,  and  James 
Cuthill  "  to  purchase  stock  in  the  Tribune  Newspaper 
Association,"  and  thereafter  they  met  with  the  stock 
holders. 

That  Mr.  Ripley 's  contributions  to  the  polit 
ical  and  miscellaneous  columns  were  no  larger, 
must  be  explained  by  the  activity  of  his  pen  in 
other  directions.  A  little  account  book,  which 
Las  been  preserved,  contains  the  names  of  va 
rious  periodicals  for  which  he  wrote,  and  even 
gives  the  titles  of  his  contributions.  They  cover 
the  whole  field  of  human  interests  from  social 
reform  to  ephemeral  amusements;  from  grave 
discussions  of  politics  and  philosophy  to  the  gos 
sip  of  the  day;  the  newly-arrived  singer;  the 
latest  Mrination  in  the  dramatic  world.  He 
tried  his  hand  at  all  styles,  having  an  eye  to  the 
exigency  of  the  hour.  Art,  music,  opera,  con 
certs,  the  latest  incident  in  the  world  of  affairs, 
Kossuth,  Jenny  Lind,  Father  Mathew,  Miss 
Brenier,  Fanny  Davenport,  the  lecturers,  Cha- 
pin,  Giles,  Emerson,  the  reading  of  Mrs.  Kem- 
ble,  the  Astor  Place  riot,  the  Parkman  murder, 
foot-races,  Charlotte  Gush  man,  reform  and  eccle 
siastical  conventions,  the  amount  of  mail  matter 
between  Europe  and  America,  spiritual  sittings, 
A.  J.  Davis  and  his  first  big  book,  the  beginning 
of  new  literary  enterprises,  Wordsworth,  All- 
Bton,  the  Astor  Library,  Agassiz,  Henry  James, 


LABOR.  207 

Poe,  Brownson,  Longfellow,  Sumner,  Garrison, 
Phillips,  Margaret  Fuller,  Samuel  Osgood,  Bee- 
eher,  Macaulay,  Bancroft,  N.  P.  Willis,  Moses 
Stuart,  Holmes,  Thackeray,  Horatio  Greenough, 
Comte,  Schelling,  Nehemiah  Adams,  James 
Walker,  Daniel  Webster,  Andrews  Norton, 
Walker's  trial  for  murder,  the  cholera,  the  last 
news  from  California,  the  demise  of  "  The  True 
Sun,"  capital  punishment,  Friends'  Yearly 
Meeting,  the  execution  of  Washington  Goode. 
"Anything  but  apathy"  is  his  motto.  It  must 
be  confessed  that  a  finely  educated  taste  like 
his  does  not  always  show  to  advantage  in  such 
promiscuous  company.  His  attempts  at  suc 
cess  as  a  penny-a-liner  were  not  examples  of 
brilliant  achievement:  the  lion  does  not  appear 
well  at  a  menagerie.  But  the  training  was  ex 
cellent,  and  familiarity  with  all  sorts  of  litera 
ture  was  valuable.  In  no  other  way  could  he 
have  acquired  the  discipline  needed  in  his  pro 
fession. 

The  breadth  of  his  experience  is  indicated  by 
the  variety  of  the  journals  to  which  he  contrib 
uted  :  "  The  Chronotype,"  "  The  Globe,"  Ar 
thur's  "Home  Gazette,"  "The  Literary  Messen 
ger,"  "  The  Washingtonian,"  "  The  Picayune," 
'•<  The  Pittsburgh  Commercial,"  "  The  Colum 
bian,"  "The  Charleston  Literary  Gazette," 
"The  Manchester  Examiner"  (English);  later 


208  GEORGE  RIPLET. 

came  "The  Independent,"  "  Hearth  and  Home," 
and  other  periodicals  not  recorded.  For  some 
of  these  he  wrote  regularly,  for  others  occasion 
ally  ;  always  accommodating  his. material  to  the 
journal  it  was  prepared  for,  descanting  on  books, 
politics,  travels,  the  gossip  of  the  day,  social 
movements,  as  his  readers  may  have  desired. 
In  several  instances  the  papers  were  scores  in 
number,  and  on  every  conceivable  subject,  from 
problems  of  life  to  the  rumors  of  the  streets. 
It  is  bewildering  even  to  note  the  themes ;  and 
when  it  is  remembered  that  all  this  work  was 
conscientiously  done,  was  done  under  serious 
difficulties,  much  of  it  in  hours  of  fatigue,  anxi 
ety,  and  sorrow,  the  achievement  is  astonishing. 

In  the  early  period  of  this  labor,  the  spiritual 
earnestness  of  the  man  often  broke  out,  as  for 
example  in  such  language  as  this  :  — 

"  The  work  of  ages  goes  on  ;  man  advances 
nearer  to  the  freedom  which  is  his  birthright ; 
the  temporary  evils,  that  are  incidental  to  all 
transitions  from  an  old  order  of  things  to  a  bet 
ter,  pass  away,  and  are  forgotten  ;  the  self-sus 
taining,  self-recovering  power  of  liberty,  insures 
the  health  of  the  social  body  ;  and  in  spite  of 
the  Jeremiads  of  such  croaking  prophets  as  M. 
Guizot,  the  serene  spirit  of  humanity  unfolds 
new  strength  and  beauty  in  the  elastic  atmos 
phere  of  liberty,  until  its  presence  is  acknowl 
edged  universally  as  benign." 


LABOR.  209 

"  Gerrit  Smith  is  one  of  the  increasing  num 
ber,  who,  with  Moses,  Jefferson,  and  Fourier, 
believe  that  the  monopoly  of  land  is  at  war  with 
the  principles  of  divine  justice;  that  the  usu 
fruct  of  the  earth  belongs  to  the  living  genera 
tions  of  the  race,  but  its  absolute  proprietorship 
to  no  one  but  the  Creator.  This  principle  is 
capable  of  demonstration." 

"  The  Associationists  have  held  several  meet 
ings  the  past  week,  which  have  been  character 
ized  by  an  excellent  spirit,  great  union  of  feel 
ing,  and  unquenchable  devotion  to  their  cause. 
.  .  .  There  is  good  reason  why.  They  know 
that  the  claims  they  make  of  social  organization 
are  demanded  by  eternal  justice,  and  will  one 
day  be  acknowledged  by  human  intelligence." 

The  literary  spirit,  temperate,  thoughtful, 
considerate,  asserted  itself  quickly,  nor  was  it 
long  in  claiming  as  its  own  the  whole  field  of 
expression.  Thus,  in  February,  1850,  he  chron 
icles  the  beginnings  of  the  Astor  Library.  His 
reviews  of  books  and  his  notices  of  men  con 
tain  sketches  of  character  such  as  none  but  a 
master  could  have  produced.  Portrait  sketches 
of  this  time  might  be  multiplied  indefinitely, 
for  the  rich-minded  and  warm-hearted  writer 
poured  out  his  impressions  with  fullness  and 
freedom  whenever  he  reviewed  characters  or 
oooks.  His  multitudinous  productions  abound 


210  GEORGE  RIPLET. 

in  similar  material.  Tempting  descriptions  of 
Bancroft,  Bushnell,  Carlyle,  Motley,  MiiliL»n- 
berg,  Mill,  Raskin,  Strauss,  Channing,  Par 
ker,  Bikhner,  Coleridge,  Swinburne,  Greeley, 
Sainte-Beuve,  George  Eliot,  G.  H.  Lewes,  hang 
on  the  walls  of  his  work-room,  done  with  a  few 
broad  touches  by  his  careful  hand.  They  are 
of  various  dates,  but  the  same  conscientiousness 
of  treatment  marks  them  all.  Though  not  al 
ways  original,  they  are  always  faithfully  studied 
and  honestly  executed,  without  mannerism  or 
pretense,  and  always  with  knowledge  derived 
from  independent  study.  Several  of  them  im 
plied  a  large  culture  in  the  best  schools  of  lit 
erary  art ;  a  few  had  many  years  of  experienced 
thought  behind  them.  To  a  friend  who  ex 
pressed  surprise  at  the  facility  with  which  he 
threw  off  his  article  on  Goethe,  he  replied  :  "  It 
is  not  wonderful,  seeing  that  I  have  been  fifty 
years  about  it."  He  was  an  illustration  of  his 
own  literary  principles.  In  a  review  of  Trench's 
"  Plutarch  "  he  said  :  "  He  who  does  not  write 
as  well  as  he  can  on  every  occasion  will  soon 
form  the  habit  of  not  writing  well  at  all."  The 
mental  hospitality  finds  explanation  in  another 
saying  of  his :  "  Exclusive  devotion  to  any  ob 
ject,  while  it  narrows  the  mental  range  and  con 
tracts,  if  it  does  not  paralyze,  the  sympathies, 
usually  diminishes  the  causes  of  temptation." 


LABOR.  211 

It  must  be  remembered  that  all  the  earlier 
work  was  done  under  severe  pressure  of  care. 
The  writer  had  none  of  the  luxuries  that  the 
man  of  letters  loves.  He  was  poor  ;  he  could 
afford  but  one  room  in  a  boarding-house ;  his 
labor  was  all  directed  towards  the  earning  of 
daily  bread.  He  could  not  pursue  his  favorite 
,  studies,  but  must  compel  his  mind  to  take  an 
interest  in  subjects  for  which  he  had  no  taste. 
He  toiled  for  bare  subsistence ;  his  recreation 
took  the  form  of  toil.  He  was  sustained  by  his 
indomitable  will,  his  buoyancy  of  animal  spir 
its,  and  the  devotion  of  his  wife,  who  preserved 
for  him,  personally,  notwithstanding  her  change 
of  faith,  a  constant  affection.  She  always  saw 
him  go  away  in  the  morning  with  regret,  and 
welcomed  his  return  with  joy.  She  knew  that 
he  was  toiling  for  her  sake,  and  was  resolved 
that  she  would  give  him  such  recompense  as 
might  be  in  her  power.  That  he  had  hours  of 
anxiety  and  despondency  may  be  easily  be 
lieved.  Without  such  he  would  not  have  been 
human.  But  his  despondency  never  got  the 
better  of  his  courage.  His  moods  of  depression 
were  largely  caused  by  fatigue,  which  an  excel 
lent  constitution  enabled  him  soon  to  throw  off. 
He  possessed  an  extraordinary  capacity  for 
work,  and  a  conscientiousness  which  was  proof 
against  the  temptations  of  indolence  and  the 


212  GEORGE  RIFLE Y. 

languors  of  exhaustion.  Work  of  itself  did  not 
fatigue  him,  partly  for  the  reason,  perhaps,  that 
being  varied  and  literary,  the  pressure  was  not 
severely  felt  on  the  nerves  of  sensibility.  It 
was  easy  to  throw  from  the  mind  what  made 
no  organic  part  of  the  mind.  Then  the  even 
monotony  of  his  labor  reduced  to  a  level  all  but 
the  few  very  remarkable  wrorks  which  break  up 
at  long  intervals  the  plains  of  the  intellectual 
world. 

In  1852,  in  connection  with  Bayard  Taylor, 
he  compiled  a  "  Handbook  of  Literature  and 
the  Fine  Arts,"  a  volume  of  650  pages,  12mo, 
the  second  in  a  series  of  six,  projected  and  pub 
lished  by  G.  P.  Putnam,  as  a  comprehensive 
cyclopaedia  for  family  use.  The  book,  though 
mainly  a  compilation,  involved  much  reading 
and  labor.  An  elaborate  article  on  "  Litera 
ture,"  probably  from  the  senior  editor's  pen, 
was  the  most  distinguishing  feature  in  it. 

When  "  Putnam's  Magazine "  was  started, 
in  1853,  Mr.  Ripley  was  one  of  its  early  con 
tributors.  The  article  on  George  Bancroft 
(March,  1853)  lays  emphasis  on  the  impor 
tance  of  the  transcendental  school  of  philoso 
phy,  of  which  Mr.  Bancroft  was  an  ardent  ad 
herent  and  an  eloquent  expositor,  pays  a  warm 
tribute  to  "  plebeian  "  institutions,  and  extols 
Kant.  The  article  on  Horace  Greeley  (July, 


LABOR.  213 

1855)  regards  Mr.  Greeley's  success  as  an  il 
lustration  of  American  institutions;  calls  him 
a  genuine  representative  of  the  New  England 
spirit ;  does  not  fully  approve  either  his  polit 
ical  principles  or  his  plans  of  social  reform  ; 
gives  a  fine  analysis  of  his  character ;  casts 
a  side  glance  at  Mrs.  Hemans,  as  contrasted 
with  Byron  and  Shelley,  and  dwells  on  the 
limitations  and  infirmities  of  self-made  men. 
The  paper  is  brilliant,  and  not  in  the  least  con 
troversial.  An  article  on  American  literature 
(February,  1856)  follows  Duyciuck  in  the 
main  ;  but  contains  a  warm  eulogium  on  Roger 
Williams,  as  the  apostle  of  soul-freedom.  The 
paper  on  Heine  (November,  1856)  severely 
condemns  Heine's  character ;  is  rather  analyt 
ical  and  philosophical  in  tone ;  but  confines  it 
self  pretty  closely  to  the  data  given  in  Meiss- 
ner's  "  Erinnerungen."  In  two  articles  on 
George  Sand  (February  and  June,  1857)  the 
writer  follows  the  course  of  her  "Autobiogra 
phy  "  without  attempting  an  essay  on  her  gen 
ius.  There  is  no  bitterness  in  his  comment ; 
no  rebuke  of  her  "immoralities,"  only  a  mild 
censure  of  her  eccentricities,  and  a  plea  for 
charity  in  respect  to  her  infringements  of  "  the 
wholesome  regulations  of  society."  The  biog 
raphy  of  Win.  H.  Seward,  prefixed  to  the  col 
lective  edition  of  Mr.  Seward's  works  (1853), 


214  GEORGE  RIPLEY. 

was  from  George  Ripley's  pen.  This,  we  sus 
pect,  was  done  with  enthusiasm,  for  the  writer 
was  a  philosophical  democrat,  a  believer  in  the 
people,  at  heart  in  sympathy  with  all  move 
ments  aiming  at  the  elevation  of  the  masses. 
In  a  review  of  Greeley's  "  Conflict  "  ("  Atlan 
tic  Monthly  "  for  Jnly,  1864),  he  spoke  of  the 
"  Compromises  of  1850"  as  "  a  monstrous  cor 
ruption  in  legislation,  which  not  even  the  great 
name  of  Henry  Clay  could  shield  from  subse 
quent  opprobrium."  The  following  letter  from 
Charles  Sumner  proves  that  long  before  this  was 
written  George  Ripley's  name  called  up  associa 
tions  of  reform  with  literary  cultivation :  — 

BOSTON,  July  5,  1849. 

MY  DKAR  Siu,  —  I  do  not  see  "  The  Tribune  "  ha 
bitually,  and  was  not  aware  till  yesterday  that  there 
had  been  any  notice  or  discussion  of  anything  of  mine 
in  its  columns.  It  is  only  this  evening  that  I  have 
seen  your  most  flattering  notice.  I  do  not  know  that 
I  have  ever  read  any  article,  mentioning  my  name, 
with  more  sincere  satisfaction  than  I  have  just  read 
that  written  by  you.  Knowing  your  skill  as  a  critic 
and  your  knowledge  of  the  subject  ["  The  Law  of 
Progress "],  I  have  especial  pleasure  in  your  com 
mendation,  while  I  cannot  but  attribute  it  in  some 
measure  to  a  friendly  bias,  or  to  the  free-masonry 
which  unites  all  who  are  struggling,  through  the  evil 
report  of  men,  for  the  better  time. 


LABOR.  215 

I  have  tried  to  procure  a  copy  of  "  The  Tribune  " 
containing  your  notice,  but  in  vain.  It  was  Friday, 
June  8.  I  have  thought  it  not  impossible  that  it 
might  be  convenient  for  you  to  send  me  a  copy  of  the 
"  Weekly "  containing  the  whole  controversy,  but  I 
am  particularly  desirous  of  preserving  your  article. 

I  send  you  to-day  a  recent  address  on  "  Peace,"  in 
which  I  believe  I  have  shown  that  great  cause  to  be 
as  practicable  as  it  is  beneficent.  I  have  endeavored 
to  disembarrass  the  question  of  some  of  the  topics 
which  are  sometimes  unnecessarily  associated  with  it. 

Pardon  my  free  epistle,  into  which  I  have  been 
tempted  by  the  exceeding  kindness  which  you  have 
shown  to  me.  Ever  faithfully  yours, 

CHARLES  SUMNER. 

Mr.  Ripley's  connection  with  "  Harper's  New 
Monthly  Magazine"  began  with  its  beginning 
in  1850,  and  continued  intimate  and  confiden 
tial  till  his  death.  He  was  at  first  a  writer  of 
literary  notices  for  it,  but  soon  took  more  prom 
inent  positions,  became  a  regular  contributor, 
and  finally  one  of  its  trusted  "readers"  of 
works  offered  to  the  house  for  publication  or 
reissue  to  the  American  market.  The  number 
of  the  "  Opinions "  is  very  great,  manuscripts 
being  sent  him  every  week,  many  of  them  nov 
els,  but  many  of  them  works  on  theological  or 
philosophical  themes,  volumes  of  travel,  histo 
ries,  pictures  of  foreign  lands,  sketches  of  char- 


216  GEORGE  RIPLE7. 

acter,  essays,  narratives  of  adventure,  solid  ex 
amples  of  criticism,  as  well  as  "  airy  nothings  " 
of  fancy.  To  all  he  gave  conscientious  exam 
ination,  not  allowing  himself  to  indulge  a  prej 
udice  in  favor  of  an  author  or  against  him,  and 
keeping  in  view  the  interests  of  literature  along 
with  the  expediences  of  trade.  His  judgment 
was  sober,  his  perception  keen,  his  knowledge 
adequate.  On  his  recommendation,  many  a 
good  book  was  sent  forth  to  merited  success, 
and  at  his  suggestion  many  a  poor  one  was  ar 
rested  on  its  way  to  the  printer.  Of  necessity, 
the  judgments  were  summary  and  the  opinions 
short;  but  the  judgments  were  always  well 
weighed,  and  the  opinions  carefully  expressed. 
A  singular  combination  of  literary  sagacity  and 
worldly  wisdom  characterized  them  nearly  all. 
An  author's  fame  seldom  conceals  any  demer 
its  of  his  work,  nor  does  an  author's  obscurity 
prevent  him  from  bestowing  on  his  production 
the  attention  it  deserves.  In  praising  or  blam 
ing,  he  is  not  contented  with  wholesale  reflec 
tions,  but  limits  his  approval  or  his  disap 
proval  to  the  qualities  he  wishes  to  commend  or 
to  discourage,  never  failing  to  distinguish  the 
special  excellence  or  deficiency  of  the  book  un 
der  consideration.  Such  definiteness  is  a  sign 
of  power;  when  united  with  the  serenity  of 
knowledge,  it  is  a  sign  of  remarkable  power  of 


LABOR.  217 

intellect.  The  writer  must  confess  that  a  pe 
rusal  of  these  "  opinions  "  has  impressed  upon 
him  the  extraordinary  mental  force  of  Mr.  Rip- 
ley,  even  more  than  the  elaborate  reviews  which 
were  intended  for  the  public  eye,  as  faithful 
work  done  in  secret  is  always  more  impressive 
than  the  most  brilliant  performance  designed  to 
meet  the  gaze  of  men.  These  criticisms,  which 
might  easily  be  expanded  into  essays,  were  care 
lessly  thrown  to  the  publisher  for  his  guidance 
as  regarded  the  availability  of  commodities  for 
the  market,  but  in  truth  they  are  valuable  as 
contributions  to  literary  history.  Their  close 
association  with  the  names  of  authors  and  the 
titles  of  books  forbids  their  publication  ;  ex 
cept  for  that,  a  volume  of  them  would  be  in 
structive  and  medicinal ;  nutritious  to  minds  in 
health,  curative  to  minds  diseased.  The  Eng 
lish  of  them  is,  of  itself,  a  study,  so  quiet  yet 
BO  fair.  Mr.  Ripley  made  a  conscience  of  his 
use  of  English.  He  said  once,  in  print,  "  It  is 
the  duty  of  every  educated  man  to  set  his  face 
against  the  innovations  which  disfigure  the  lan 
guage  ;  to  exercise  the  functions  of  a  committee 
of  vigilance  where  no  verbal  tribunal  forms  a 
court  of  final  appeal ;  and  thus  to  aid  in  the 
creation  of  a  body  of  common  law  which  shall 
have  the  force  of  a  statute."  So  conscientious 
was  he  about  this,  that  the  most  abrupt  ver- 


218  GEORGE  RIP  LET. 

diets,  often  but  two  or  three  lines  in  length,  are 
expressed  in  English,  not  formal  or  studied,  but 
idiomatic;  dashing,  yet  correct.  The  "opin 
ions"  in  question  prove  the  possibility  of  giv 
ing  utterance  to  very  strong  emotions  without 
departing  from  the  vernacular.  "  Idiot "  and 
"lunatic1''  are  to  be  found  in  the  most  conser 
vative  dictionaries.  They  who  object  to  .Mr. 
Ripley's  gentleness  would,  perhaps,  be  of  an 
other  mind  if  they  could  see  his  written  judg 
ment  on  manuscripts  sent  to  him  for  inspection. 
The  "New  American  Cyclopaedia  "  was  be 
gun  in  1857.  The  project  was  conceived  by 
Rev.  Dr.  Hawks.  Mr.  Ripley's  connection  with 
the  work  was  coincident  with  its  earliest  execu 
tion,  and  the  character  of  the  work  itself  owed 
much  to  the  patient  labor  and  the  unremitting 
care  which  he  bestowed  on  it.  The  publishers, 
of  course,  granted  every  facility,  —  provided  the 
space  for  a  large  corps  of  workers  ;  supplied  the 
books  of  reference ;  paid  contributors,  sub-edi 
tors,  purveyors  of  literary  material  ;  did  all,  in 
fact,  that  publishers  could  do,  in  affording  the 
"  ways  and  means,"  —  but  the  success  of  the 
undertaking  depended  much  on  the  manner  in 
which  the  task  was  performed,  and  that  rested 
with  the  editors,  George  Ripley  and  C.  A. 
Dana.  They  were  both  busy  men ;  but  they 
were  both  men  of  remarkable  power  of  labor 


LABOR.  219 

and  of  singular  resolution.  Both  gave  their  best 
thought  to  the  enterprise,  and  as  much  time  as 
it  required.  The  staff  of  fellow-laborers  was 
not  large  at  first,  but  competent  writers  had 
charge  of  the  articles ;  a  liberal  spirit  presided 
over  the  undertaking,  which,  though  of  gigantic 
dimensions  and  formidable  responsibility,  went 
on  smoothly  from  week  to  week.  Mr.  Ripley 
himself  wrote  little  or  nothing ;  but  the  labor 
of  selecting  themes  and  authors,  of  preserving 
due  proportion  of  parts,  and  of  correcting  er 
rors  of  statement  or  of  style,  was  not  light. 
The  articles  were  anonymous ;  a  severe  taste 
excluded  individual  peculiarities  of  manner  and 
opinion  ;  a  tone  purely  literary  animated  every 
page  of  the  sixteen  volumes.  The  subjects  were 
allotted  to  the  best  known  authorities,  without 
regard  to  their  ecclesiastical  or  party  connec 
tions,  and  were  tried  at  the  tribunal  of  histori 
cal  or  literary  truth  before  they  were  admitted. 
A  close  and  ceaseless  watch  was  kept  on  every 
line.  Experts  in  learning  passed  sentence  on 
each  contribution  submitted.  In  fact,  no  means 
were  left  untried  to  secure,  as  far  as  possible, 
immunity  from  error.  A  supplementary  vol 
ume,  published  each  year,  supplied  such  addi 
tions  as  the  progress  of  events  in  the  old  world 
or  the  new  made  necessary,  until  a  complete 
revision  of  the  whole  work  was  required;  but 


220  GEORGE  RIPLET. 

these  volumes  made  no  part  of  the  Cyclopaedia 
as  being  under  the  care  of  its  editors.  The 
first  two  or  three  volumes  of  the  main  work 
were  edited  solely  by  Messrs.  Ripley  and  Dana ; 
others,  associate  editors,  came  in  later,  and  con 
tinned,  most  of  them,  till  the  end. 

The  first  edition  was  finished  in  1862.  A 
complete  revision  was  begun  in  1867-68,  and 
completed  in  less  than  three  years.  Though 
made  under  the  same  conditions  and  auspices 
as  the  first,  the  same  editorial  care,  and,  as  far 
as  could  be,  the  same  critical  supervision,  it  was 
substantially  a  new  work.  Each  article  was  sub 
mitted  to  thorough  re-handling;  the  schedule 
was  reconstructed;  much  of  the  old  material 
was  dropped  ;  the  proportionate  length  of  con 
tributions  was  altered  to  suit  the  increased  or 
diminished  importance  of  subjects ;  and  other 
writers  were  called  in  to  make  good  the  places 
of  men  whom  death  had  removed,  or  whom  cir 
cumstances  had  rendered  unavailable  or  need 
less.  The  new  book  was  a  monument  of  edito 
rial  capacity.  To  it  Mr.  Ripley  gave  every 
hour  he  could  spare  from  other  duties;  having 
it  on  his  mind  when  it  was  not  on  his  hands; 
considering,  planning,  making  notes  in  his  mem 
orandum-book  ;  anxious  lest  any  piece  of  valu 
able  information  should  be  omitted,  or  any 
defective  workmanship  be  admitted;  looking 


LABOR.  221 

after  the  small  details  of  literary  execution,  and 
feeling  his  way  in  advance  of  the  contributors 
that  he  might  not  be  taken  by  surprise.  Every 
day  found  him  at  his  post  for  several  hours, 
cheerful,  buoyant,  unresting,  and  unfatigued, 
never  off  his  guard,  but  never  petulant.  After  a 
pleasant  greeting  to  his  fellow-workers  he  went 
steadily  to  work  himself,  and  silence,  broken 
by  suppressed  murmurs  only  as  questions  were 
asked  and  answered  in  an  under-tone,  reigned 
throughout  the  apartment. 

Around  the  editor  in  chief  were  ranged  his 
staff.  There  was  Robert  Carter,  a  man  of  rare 
and  extensive  knowledge,  for  many  years  con 
nected  with  the  newspaper  press,  —  an  editor 
once  and  author  himself,  for  a  long  time  corre 
spondent  of  "  The  Tribune  "  at  Washington,  and 
a  trusted  manager  of  "  Appleton's  Journal ;  " 
Michael  Heilprin,  the  omniscient,  a  Hebrejtv, 
of  Polish  extraction,  formerly  private  secretary 
of  Kossuth,  —  a  man  of  boundless  erudition, 
master  of  all  languages,  Eastern  and  West 
ern,  a  nice  critic  of  details,  especially  in  his 
tory,  biography,  philology,  and  geography,  since 
known  as  the  writer  of  a  remarkable  work  on 
the  history  and  literature  of  Israel ;  Alfred 
Guernsey,  for  many  years  an  important  servant 
of  the  Harpers,  conductor  of  their  magazine, 
chief  historian  of  their  well-known  "  War  of 


222  GEORGE  RIPLET. 

the  Rebellion ; "  Francis  Teall,  whose  famil 
iarity  with  the  mysteries  of  a  printing-office 
made  him  especially  valuable  as  an  inspector 
and  corrector  of  proofs.  Among  the  revisers 
were  John  D.  Champlin,  Jr.,  the  well-known 
specialist,  historian,  and  critic  ;  Julius  Bing,  tho 
industrious  literary  purveyor;  J.  R.  G.  Hassard, 
the  accomplished  writer  on  nearly  all  subjects; 
R.  A.  Proctor,  the  astronomer:  in  all  more 
than  thirty  men  of  more  or  less  literary  distinc 
tion.  With  the  world's  literature  beneath  them 
suggesting  the  patient  toil  of  past  centuries,  and 
the  roar  of  traffic  in  the  street  outside  to  remind 
them  of  the  age  to  which  they  belonged,  these 
toilers  pursued  their  unintermitted  task  of  con 
densing  the  thought  of  the  generation  into  form 
far  easy  reference.  The  world  was  ten  years 
older  than  it  was  when  the  "  New  American  Cy 
clopaedia  "  began  to  take  the  place  of  the  admi 
rable  but  long  obsolete  "  Encyclopaedia  Ameri 
cana."  History  had  made  great  strides;  the 
globe  had  yielded  up  many  a  secret  to  modern 
investigation  ;  philology  had  unlocked  treasures 
of  literature ;  criticism  had  reduced  ancient 
prejudices  to  fictions;  charity  had  pulled  down 
some  of  the  most  stubborn  barriers  of  faith  ;  a 
respect  for  truth  had  to  some  degree  taken  the 
place  of  pride  of  opinion  ;  it  had  become  in 
some  measure  practicable  to  seek  knowledge 


LABOR.  223 

where  aforetime  nothing  but  ignorance,  super 
stition,  and  bigotry  was  looked  for,  and  the  mak 
ers  of  the  great  Cyclopaedia  had  free  permission 
to  obey  the  summons. 

An  abbreviated  edition  of  the  work,  in  four 
volumes,  was  made  immediately  on  the  comple 
tion  of  the  revision.  This  was  finished  two 
years  before  the  death  of  the  senior  editor. 

By  agreement  with  the  publishers  the  two 
editors  received  between  them  twelve  and  a  half 
cents  on  every  volume  sold,  or  one  dollar  each 
on  every  set.  For  extra  work  on  the  revision 
Mr.  Ripley  was  paid  two  hundred  and  forty 
dollars  a  month.  This  began  in  1876,  and  was 
continued  till  the  condensed  edition  in  four  vol 
umes  was  finished.  The  number  of  volumes 
sold  of  both  the  large  editions,  at  this  date,  is 
one  million  four  hundred  fifty  nine  thousand 
five  hundred  and  fifty ;  an  immense  sale,  due 
in  part,  no  doubt,  to  the  timeliness  of  the  proj 
ect,  in  part  also  to  the  reputation  of  the  pub 
lishers  and  the  well-established  fame  of  the  edi 
tors  in  charge. 

In  1862,  about  the  time  the  first  edition  of  the 
Cyclopaedia  was  completed,  Mr.  Ripley  formed 
a  plan  for  two  volumes  of  papers  "  selected  from 
the  contributions  of  the  writer  to  the  periodical 
press  during  a  long  term  of  years,"  and  even 
wrote  a  preface  explaining  the  contents.  The 
collection  was  to  be  called,  — 


224  GEORGE  RIPLET. 

BOOKS  AND   MEN. 

A   SERIES   OF 

CRITICAL   AND  BIOGRAPHICAL  SKETCHES. 
BY   GEORGE   RIPLET. 

The  volumes  were  never  published ;  the  ma 
terials  for  them  were  probably  never  selected. 
The  author  was  easily  diverted  from  any  proj 
ect  of  that  kind.  A  native  modesty  forbade 
his  attaching  importance  to  the  necessarily  fu 
gitive  productions  of  his  pen.  In  an  age  of  book- 
making  he  was  no  book-maker  ;  and  besides,  his 
time  was  so  fully  occupied  that  small  leisure 
remained  for  the  suitable  compilation  and  edit 
ing  of  a  series  like  that  contemplated.  Had 
his  engagements  permitted  a  careful  treatment 
of  the  themes  discussed,  he  might  have  been 
nerved  to  undertake  a  work  of  permanent  value, 
for  which  he  was  well  qualified.  But  there  was 
little  to  stir  ambition  in  the  plan  suggested, 
and  he  never  found  opportunity  to  alter  it. 
With  remarkable  capacity  for  authorship,  and 
more  than  the  common  inducements  to  it  in 
the  form  of  pecuniary  advantage,  his  standard 
of  excellence  was  high.  Literature  was  his  mis 
tress,  —  an  exacting  one,  —  whom,  in  his  opin 
ion,  he  could  better  serve  by  the  anonymous 
daily  effort  of  journalism  into  which  he  might 
put  conscience,  knowledge,  cultivation,  experi 
ence,  taste,  than  by  any  more  formal  adventure 


LABOR.  225 

of  authorship.  His  individual  claim  to  recog 
nition  he  prized  less  than  the  influence  which 
he  might  exert  through  the  impersonal  quality 
of  his  mind.  This  he  spent  without  stint.  His 
friends  will  acknowledge  the  dignity  of  his 
course,  however  much  they  may  wish  that  they 
possessed  some  permanent  memorial  of  his  ac 
tivity,  or  that  the  world  might  know  its  full 
debt  to  his  faithfulness.  Whoso  lives  for  hu 
manity  must  be  content  to  lose  himself.  No 
less  than  this  shall  be  said  here  for  the  man  who 
furnished  material  for  many  books,  but  pub 
lished  none. 

15 


CHAPTER  VI. 

SORROW. 

GEORGE  RIPLEY  has  now  become  a  man  of 
letters,  pure  and  simple,  examining  all  subjects 
in  a  spirit  purely  literary.  Never  a  dogmatist, 
never  a  partisan,  never  a  controversialist,  never 
a  theorist  or  champion  of  opinions  ;  always  an 
eclectic  in  the  best  sense  of  the  term,  always  a 
believer  in  partial  but  advancing  truth,  he  was 
now  less  than  ever  disposed  to  commit  himself 
to  any  school  or  system.  His  faith  was  in 
thought,  his  interest  was  in  knowledge,  let  the 
thought  bear  what  name  it  might,  let  the  knowl 
edge  proceed  from  whatsoever  quarter.  In  intel 
lectual  passion  he  was  deficient.  His  heart  was 
warm  ;  his  conscience  was  true  ;  his  mind  was 
serene  and  impersonal.  A  loyal  friend,  a  faith 
ful  citizen,  his  devotion  to  truth  was  dispassion 
ate,  for  the  reason  that  it  was  modest.  Affec 
tion  clung  to  forms  ;  conscience  revered  visible 
symbols ;  but  truth  was  bodiless  and  eternal. 
That  he  dared  not  limit.  That  he  could  only 
worship  from  afar.  And  so  strong  was  his  con 
viction  of  the  claims  of  intellectual  liberty  that 


SORROW.  227 

to  him  it  would  have  been  nothing  short  of  trea 
son  to  confine  himself  within  a  sect.  A  theist 
he  undoubtedly  was,  a  clear,  decided  one ;  but 
his  theism  was  wider  than  any  denomination, 
broader  than  any  creed.  Intolerance,  in  his 
view,  was  folly.  The  boldest  affirmation  was 
likely  to  be  nearest  to  wisdom.  His  faith  might 
best  be  expressed  in  the  lofty  language  of  the 
writer  of  the  Apocryphal  Book  of  Ecclesiasti- 
cus :  "  In  all  ages,  entering  into  holy  souls,  she 
[Wisdom]  maketh  them  to  be  sons  of  God  and 
prophets."  Such  souls  were,  in  his  judgment, 
few;  but  he  revered  them  wherever  found,  and 
he  found  them  in  all  communions.  In  a  review 
of  Mr.  Mallock's  volume,  "  Is  Life  Worth  Liv 
ing?  "  he  wrote,  "  The  consciousness  of  a  spirit 
ual  life  has  not  passed  away  from  a  host  of 
minds  of  profoundest  thought,  who  find  nothing 
in  the  disclosures  of  science  to  shake  their  faith 
in  the  eternal  verities  of  reason  and  religion." 
Later  (1879),  reviewing  Arnold's  "  Light  of 
Asia,"  he  said,  "  As  an  exposition  of  the  relig 
ious  system  of  Buddha  we  reckon  this  poem  as 
no  more  successful  than  the  numerous  similar 
attempts  in  prose.  We  have  no  sufficient  data 
for  the  solution  of  the  problem.  But  as  a  mag 
nificent  work  of  imagination  and  a  sublime  ap 
peal  in  the  interests  of  the  loftiest  human  vir 
tue,  we  tender  it  the  sincerest  welcome,  and 


228  GEORGE  RIFLE Y. 

grasp  the  author  by  the  hand  as  a  genuine 
prophet  of  the  soul."  In  a  notice  of  Kiddle's 
"Spiritual  Communications,"  printed  about  the 
same  time,  he  writes :  "  The  book  affords  a 
fearful  example  of  the  danger  of  substituting 
the  suggestions  of  personal  fancy  for  the  univer 
sal  principles  of  morality,  and  the  practical  rules 
for  the  conduct  of  the  understanding,  which  have 
been  accepted  in  all  civilized  communities." 

He  was  too  well  acquainted  with  schools  of 
philosophy  to  commit  himself  without  reserve 
to  either,  and  too  familiar  with  creeds  to  repeat 
any  with  full  conviction.  Having  personal 
friendships  with  men  and  women  of  all  persua 
sions,  he  preserved  his  mental  integrity  without 
restricting  his  social  intercourse ;  in  fact,  the 
completeness  with  which  he  kept  his  private 
faith  enabled  him  to  maintain  his  social  inter 
course;  for  it  was  quite  well  understood  that  he 
was  purely  a  man  of  letters,  whose  imperson 
ality  of  opinion  made  bigotry  impossible  on  his 
part,  and  disarmed  the  spirit  of  proselytism  in 
others.  He  met  nobody  on  the  dogmatical 
plane  ;  on  the  intellectual  plane  he  cordially 
met  anybody.  He  was  never  heard  to  pray ; 
he  was  never  heard  to  say  his  catechism  ;  he 
was  never  heard  to  make  confession  of  sin. 
Yet  who  dares  to  say  he  was  wanting  in  humil 
ity  ?  The  books  he  loved  to  read  were  books 


SORROW.  229 

on  physiology.  Yet  he  was  no  materialist,  but 
an  idealist  to  the  end  of  his  days.  No  church 
could  claim  him,  but  no  church  could  disclaim 
him ;  and  in  hours  of  intimacy,  when  the  veil 
was  removed  from  his  spirit,  his  discourse  took 
a  tone  of  solemnity  which  could  belong  only  to 
one  who  stood  near  the  dividing  line  between 
the  temporal  and  the  eternal,  and  was  keenly 
sensitive  to  the  lightest  breath  of  moral  or  spir 
itual  skepticism.  To  Theodore  Parker,  in 
1852,  he  wrote :  "  I  regard  Schleiermacher  as 
the  greatest  thinker  who  ever  undertook  to 
fathom  the  philosophy  of  religion.  If  he  had 
only  placed  his  '  Infinite '  in  the  human  soul  he 
would  have  come  upon  the  right  track,  shad 
owed  forth  by  the  '  Sat/xwi/ '  of  Socrates,  the  '  To 
©et'o/  of  Plato,  the  '  O  ©eos  eo-Tt  Tn/ev/xa  '  of  Christ, 
and  whatever  else  acknowledges  the  God  with 
in  us,  or  theism  against  atheism.  In  this  faith 
we  have  a  grand  comprehensive  reconciliation.'* 
The  atheistical  theory,  however  set  forth,  had 
no  attraction  for  him.  "I  have  read  but  little 
of  Feuerbach.  He  seems  crabbed  and  dog 
matic  in  his  atheism,  and  can  have  little  influ 
ence,  I  presume,  except  on  the  confirmed  sys 
tem-lover." 

The  following  extracts  from  printed  judg 
ments  may  fitly  be  cited  here  as  indicating  the 
cast  of  his  thought  on  religious  themes :  — 


230  GEORGE  RIPLEY. 

[Biichner's  Man  in  the  Past,  Present,  and  Future."] 

Among  the  physiologists  of  the  extreme  material 
istic  school,  Dr.  Biichner  has  gained  a  certain  degree 
of  celebrity  by  the  freedom  of  his  speculations  and 
the  audacity  of  his  theories,  rather  than  by  any  pre 
tensions  to  accuracy  of  learning  or  soundness  of  judg 
ment.  The  present  work,  like  the  productions  by 
which  he  is  already  known  to  the  public,  bears  the 
marks  of  crude  and  superficial  reflection  ;  its  method  is 
loose  and  desultory,  its  reasonings  are  plausible  rather 
than  convincing,  and  its  statements  appear  to  aim  at 
popular  effect  rather  than  at  precision  and  exactness 
of  information  or  sobriety  of  inference.  As  a  writer, 
Dr.  Buchner  has  no  mastery  of  ease  or  elegance  of 
expression  ;  his  sentences  are  framed  after  the  most 
confused  models  of  German  construction,  and  the 
lack  of  flow  and  neatness  in  his  style  makes  the  pe 
rusal  of  his  disquisitions  more  of  a  task  than  a  pleas 
ure.  The  interest  of  this  volume  consists  in  being 
one  of  the  latest,  and,  in  some  respects,  one  of  the 
most  complete,  accounts  of  the  results  of  modern  re 
search  with  regard  to  the  physical  history  and  devel 
opment  of  the  human  race. 

[Mallock  on  Modern  Skepticism.'] 

The  present  work,  "  Is  Life  worth  Living,"  like 
the  previous  productions  of  the  author,  indicates  an 
excess  of  imagination  over  clearness  of  insight  and 
soundness  of  judgment.  His  fancy  takes  alarm  at 
the  portentous  shapes  which  are  dimly  descried 


SORROW.  231 

through  the  mist  of  a  mirage,  instead  of  his  pa 
tiently  examining  their  proportions  in  the  veracity 
of  sunlight.  His  description  of  modern  science,  in 
many  respects,  must  be  regarded  as  a  caricature,  of 
which  the  colors  have  been  supplied  by  the  intensity 
of  his  fears  rather  than  by  the  tranquil  observation  of 
facts.  It  is  certain  that  the  men  of  science  of  the 
present  day  are  not  tinctured  with  the  spirit  of  un 
belief  to  the  extent  which  is  represented  by  the  au 
thor.  The  successors  of  Faraday  and  Agassiz,  who 
share  their  faith  while  they  inherit  their  science,  are 
by  no  means  few  in  number  or  narrow  in  influence. 
The  consciousness  of  a  spiritual  life  has  not  passed 
away  from  a  host  of  minds  of  profoundest  thought, 
who  find  nothing  in  the  disclosures  of  science  to 
shake  their  faith  in  the  eternal  verities  of  reason 
and  religion.  Nor,  perhaps,  is  the  present  age  more 
deserving  the  name  of  an  age  of  unbelief  than  preced 
ing  ages.  The  eighteenth  century  presented  an  exam 
ple  of  denial  and  doubt,  of  profane  scoffing  and  disso 
lute  living,  to  which  no  parallel  can  now  be  found ;  but 
it  was  succeeded  by  a  more  passionate  love  of  truth,  a 
higher  tone  of  ethics,  and  a  deeper  sense  of  religion. 
If  the  reign  of  dogma  has  been  weakened,  the  domin 
ion  of  a  spiritual  faith  has  gained  fresh  power  and 
won  wider  triumphs. 

Mr.  Mallock's  book,  accordingly,  affords  a  curious 
example  of  taking  a  part  for  the  whole,  of  overlook 
ing  a  wide  circle  of  social  and  human  interests,  of 
ignoring  large  classes  of  profound  and  powerful 
thinkers,  of  taking  for  granted  the  death  of  religious 


232  GEORGE  RIPLET. 

faith,  as  he  witnessed  the  obsequies  of  certain  tempo 
rary  forms.  The  dirge-like  notes  with  which  he  ac 
companies  the  procession  will  not  be  accepted  as  the 
music  of  humanity,  nor  will  the  burial  of  the  soul 
be  deemed  the  inevitable  result  of  the  progress  of  sci 
ence. 

[William  E.   Charming.] 

.  .  .  His  integrity  of  purpose  was  equally  con 
spicuous  in  his  convictions  and  in  his  doubts.  Next 
to  his  love  of  humanity,  his  most  ardent  passion  was 
the  love  of  truth,  if  it  was  not  his  love  of  truth 
which  inspired  his  profound  devotion  to  the  interests 
of  humanity.  He  had  no  taste  and  little  capacity  for 
controversy.  He  delighted  in  the  comparison  of  ideas, 
especially  with  men  whose  earnestness  and  good  faith 
inspired  him  with  confidence  in  their  intentions  ;  but 
the  atmosphere  of  strife  and  debate  was  not  congen 
ial  with  his  feelings,  and  prevented  the  free  exercise 
of  his  highest  faculties.  There  was  almost  a  child 
like  simplicity  in  his  mind,  which,  in  spite  of  perhaps 
an  excessive  self-consciousness,  led  him  to  listen 
meekly  to  suggestions,  even  from  the  humblest  quar 
ters,  and  to  maintain  the  attitude  of  an  inquirer  rather 
than  a  teacher.  He  had  no  tincture  of  a  dogmatic 
spirit.  He  was  suspicious  of  broad  generalizations, 
tracing  their  origin  to  imagination  and  eloquence 
more  often  than  to  accurate  research,  and  hence  was 
always  disinclined  to  the  adoption  of  a  system.  He 
rejoiced  in  every  glimpse  of  truth  which  was  opened 
to  his  sight,  but  never  presumed  that  he  had  ex- 


SORROW.  233 

hausted  the  circle  of  thought.  The  tone  of  his  mind 
was  that  of  profound  reverence.  To  him  few  things 
were  small,  trivial,  or  unimportant.  There  was  a 
solemn  air  in  his  manner,  a  tremulous  urgency  in  his 
accents,  when  he  spoke  of  the  "  deep  things  of  God," 
of  the  mysterious  greatness  of  the  soul,  of  the  divine 
endowments  and  destiny  of  man,  which  is  sometimes 
faintly,  but  never  fully,  reflected  from  his  written 
page.  Still  his  style  is  marked  by  a  gracious  fervor, 
that  is  scarcely  surpassed  by  its  chaste  beauty.  It  is 
not  the  glow  of  a  heated  furnace,  but  the  warmth  of 
a  vernal  day,  revealing  the  presence  of  celestial  fires. 
Dr.  Channing's  mind  attained  its  greatest  freedom 
and  power  in  his  pulpit  discourses.  Neither  in  his 
colloquial  intercourse  nor  in  his  familiar  correspond 
ence  was  he  so  free  from  formality,  so  natural  and 
spontaneous,  so  entirely  himself,  as  when  address 
ing  the  congregation  of  worshipers  on  a  congenial 
theme.  His  slight  frame  vibrated  with  emotion.  His 
low  voice,  instinct  with  pathos  and  tenderness,  touched 
the  heart  of  every  hearer.  The  scene  was  alive 
with  more  than  dramatic  intensity.  It  was  not  ex 
citement,  it  was  not  enthusiasm,  but  the  solemn  com 
munion  of  soul  with  soul. 

.  .  .  The  impression  of  the  character  of  Dr.  Chan- 
nirig  produced  by  this  volume  [E.  P.  P.'s  "  Reminis 
cences  "]  is  in  accordance  with  the  estimate  that  has 
long  since  been  formed  by  intelligent  readers  of  Amer 
ican  biography.  He  is  set  forth  as  a  man  of  singularly 
earnest  convictions,  and  even  of  an  ardent  tempera 
ment,  although  usually  concealed  beneath  his  habit- 


234  GEORGE  RIFLE  Y. 

ual  reserve   of    manner   and    delicate  reticence   of 
expression. 

A  more  devout  and  unworldly  spirit  was  never 
manifested  in  the  flesh.  Like  President  Edwards, 
whose  writings  were  the  subject  of  his  early  study 
and  admiration,  he  was  enamored  of  "  the  beauty  and 
loveliness  of  divine  things."  But  he  was  no  ascetic, 
no  enthusiast,  no  dreamer.  The  serene  wisdom  of 
his  counsels  was  as  remarkable  as  his  austere  devo 
tion  to  duty.  The  workings  of  his  mind  were  practi 
cal  rather  than  speculative.  The  great  problem  of 
his  life  was  the  application  of  ideal  principles  to  the 
cultivation  of  personal  character  and  the  beauty  and 
perfection  of  the  social  order.  With  a  more  than 
common  share  of  self-consciousness,  he  was  singularly 
free  from  the  influence  of  selfishness.  His  solicitude 
for  himself  was  never  equal  to  his  sympathy  for 
others.  His  own  interests  were  always  postponed  to 
the  claims  of  truth,  of  righteousness,  of  humanity. 
In  the  formation  of  his  opinions,  whether  on  a  point 
of  speculative  thought  or  of  ethical  action,  he  was 
curiously  deliberate,  tentative,  open  to  suggestion, 
modest  in  decision,  but  firm  in  his  grasp  of  principle. 
His  faith  was  without  dogmatism,  his  religion  with 
out  pretense,  his  conduct  a  transparent  expression  of 
the  "beauty  of  holiness."  Rapt  in  the  contemplation 
of  ideal  truth,  "  his  soul  was  like  a  star  and  dwelt 
apart,"  but  he  never  cherished  the  loneliness  of 
spirit  which  withdrew  him  from  the  sympathy  of 
his  kind,  or  the  circle  of  pure  and  devoted  friendship 


SORROW.  235 

Theism. 

The  vital  question  of  modern  inquiry  relates  to 
the  first  principle  and  origin  of  existence.  Every 
movement  of  thought  is  but  the  effort  of  the  mind 
to  grasp  the  individual  facts  of  nature  in  a  compre 
hensive  unity,  and  to  interpret  the  universe  according 
to  the  suggestions  of  reason.  In  all  ages  men  have 
attempted  an  ideal  construction  of  natural  phenom 
ena.  But  they  have  never  been  able  to  rest  in  any 
thing  short  of  an  absolute  unity :  a  unity  which  is 
the  negation  of  all  plurality  and  change  ;  a  unity 
which  is  unconditioned  itself,  and  yet  conditions  ev 
erything;  an  eternal  constancy,  which  produces  all 
geneses  and  all  variety.  Thinkers  have  always  ap 
prehended,  with  more  or  less  clearness,  that  the  first 
principle  must  be  one  or  nothing.  This  is  tacitly 
conceded  in  all  modern  systems  of  thought.  On  this 
ground  Biichuer  the  materialist,  Spencer  the  dynamr 
ist,  Hegel  the  idealist,  Cousin  and  Coleridge  the  spir 
itualists,  meet  in  common.  The  ultimate  problem  of 
all  philosophy  is  to  determine  the  relation  of  human 
thought  to  this  absolute  principle.  Among  the  solu 
tions  of  the  problem  there  are  four  distinct  typ^s,. 
which,  in  the  opinion  of  the  author,  exhaust  the  dis* 
cussion.  First,  it  has  been  maintained  that  matter, 
with  its  essential  attribute  of  force,  explains  the  ori 
gin  of  the  universe.  Second,  the  absolute  principle 
has  been  found  in  force,  considered  as  the  cause  of  all 
the  manifold  phenomena  of  the  universe.  Third, 
thought  has  been  assumed  as  an  eternal  process  of  ev 
olution,  forming  the  supreme  principle  of  all  reality. 


236  GEORGE  RIPLEY. 

Fourth,  the  causative  principle  of  existence  and  phe 
nomena  is  an  unconditioned  will,  a  living  and  per 
sonal  Being,  determining  all  the  conditions  of  the 
universe  with  reference  to  a  final  purpose.  The  first 
and  second  of  these  systems  are  essentially  the  creeds 
of  atheism  ;  the  third  is  that  of  pantheism ;  the  fourth, 
that  of  theism. 

In  the  summer  of  1848  his  wife  dropped  her 
teaching  at  Flatbush.  Late  in  the  autumn  of 
that  year  they  came  to  New  York.  About  that 
time,  either  immediately  before  or  immediately 
after  their  removal,  she  professed  her  faith  in 
Romanism.  Tared  and  disappointed,  her  illu 
sions  dispelled,  her  enthusiasm  exhausted,  — 

Weary  of  herself,  and  sick  of  asking 
What  she  was  and  what  she  ought  to  be,  — 

she  sunk,  like  a  spent  child,  into  her  nurse's 
arms.  "  I  have  found  my  mother,"  was  her 
cry.  The  conversion  must  have  been  a  grief 
to  her  husband;  but  if  it  was  he  did  not  be 
tray  it.  This  change  of  faith  made  no  divis 
ion  between  them.  Whatever  lack  of  mental 
and  spiritual  correspondence  it  may  have  occa 
sioned,  it  caused  no  break  of  private  sympathy, 
no  withdrawal  of  affectionate  respect.  They 
honored  and  loved  each  other  as  before.  He 
appreciated  her  devotion,  aided  her  charities, 
took  an  interest  in  her  occupations,  rejoiced  in 
her  happiness,  humored  what  to  him  seemed  her 
fancies.  Their  social  delights  they  shared  to- 


SORROW.  287 

gether.  Agreeing  not  to  talk  on  questions  of 
religious  opinion,  they  were  quite  free  to  com 
municate  on  other  subjects,  and  never  allowed 
any  root  of  bitterness  to  spring  up  and  trouble 
them.  They  were  seen  together  in  public,  and 
in  private  were  the  delight  of  a  select  circle  of 
friends.  Their  lot  was  humble,  but  their  hearts 
were  light.  Her  days  were  consecrated  to  of 
fices  of  piety  and  love  ;  his  were  spent  in  the 
drudgery  of  literature.  Hers  were  passed  among 
the  poor  and  friendless  of  the  metropolis ;  his 
in  his  office,  among  his  books.  But  in  the  even 
ing  they  met  and  conversed  cheerily,  as  if  nei 
ther  was  preoccupied. 

In  1859,  while  stooping  to  pick  up  some 
article  which  had  fallen  behind  her  dressing- 
table,  she  struck  against  the  sharp  corner  of 
the  marble  top  with  such  violence  that  the  pain 
obliged  her  to  sit  down  till  she  could  recover 
herself.  She  said  nothing  about  it,  but  soon 
afterward  noticed  a  hard  lump  in  the  right 
breast,  at  the  bruised  spot ;  still  she  said  noth 
ing.  In  June,  1860,  Mr.  Ripley  being  called 
to  Greenfield  to  the  death-bed  of  his  brother 
Franklin,  she  consulted  a  physician,  who  was 
shocked  at  the  progress  of  disease.  Still  she 
said  nothing  to  her  husband  till  two  days  after 
his  return,  when,  on  his  remarking  that  he  had 
dispatched  the  work  which  had  accumulated  in 


238  GEORGE  RIPLET. 

his  absence,  she  threw  out  a  hint  of  her  condi 
tion.  It  was  too  late.  There  was  an  operation  ; 
she  apparently  recovered,  was  happy,  gentle, 
sweet,  and  so  merry  that  it  was  a  joy  to  see 
her.  In  October  they  made  a  little  journey  to 
Boston  and  Greenfield.  But  in  November  the 
suffering  returned,  and  went  on  increasing  in 
seventy  until  the  end,  in  February,  1861.  The 
agony  was  intense,  but  the  patience  was  saint 
like  ;  the  serenity  of  spirit  was  unbroken.  No 
murmur  escaped  the  lips;  no  expression  of  im 
patience  added  to  the  grief  of  those  about  her ; 
her  thoughts  were  not  for  herself,  but  for  those 
whose  pain  she  could  do  nothing  to  relieve. 
Her  faithful  husband  did  for  her  all  that  was 
in  his  power :  sat  by  her,  consoled  her,  cheered, 
procured  every  alleviation  his  means  would 
allow,  administered  with  his  own  hand  the 
soothing  draught,  was  comforter,  nurse,  physi 
cian,  most  tender  and  thoughtful  of  friends. 
They  had  but  one  room.  His  writing-table  was 
in  one  corner,  and  there  he  sat  at  work,  night 
after  night  and  day  after  day,  his  brain  reeling, 
his  heart  bleeding,  his  soul  suspended  on  her 
distress.  So  it  went  on  for  three  months.  A 
kind  friend  in  the  house  said  at  last :  "  Occupy 
our  rooms  to-night ;  my  wife  and  I  will  go  to 
a  hotel."  That  night  was  her  last.  Her  hus 
band  told  his  sister  he  could  have  shouted  for 
joy  to  think  that  the  agony  was  over. 


SORROW.  239 

The  funeral  was  celebrated  with  all  possible 
circumstance,  in  fullest  accordance  with  the  rite 
of  the  Roman  Church,  with  music  and  priestly 
vestments,  as  the  authorities  desired  and  as 
affection  prompted.  The  remains  were  taken 
to  Boston.  Prayers  were  said  in  the  old  Pur 
chase  Street  meeting-house,  then  a  Catholic 
church,  —  he  sitting  where  she  sat  in  years  gone 
by,  her  body  occupying  the  place  of  the  ancient 
communion-table.  At  his  instance,  ground  was 
consecrated  for  her  resting-place  in  the  old 
cemetery  at  Cambridge.  The  pale,  bloodless 
man  went  back  to  a  cold  fireside. 

With  the  death  of  his  wife,  George  Ripley's 
life  seemed  to  be  at  an  end.  She  represented 
his  whole  past.  She  had  been  his  intellectual 
companion  during  the  studious  years  of  his 
ministry  ;  she  had  shared  his  visions  of  the 
new  earth ;  she  had  borne  her  part  cheerfully 
in  the  labors  of  Brook  Farm ;  she  had  aided 
his  efforts  to  build  up  a  new  home  in  another 
city;  she  had  endeared  herself  to  his  soul  by 
her  fortitude  during  a  terrible  sickness ;  she 
was  consecrated  by  the  experience  of  death. 
Her  departure  left  him  not  only  alone,  but 
lonely  and  depressed.  He  went  from  New 
York  to  Brooklyn,  where  he  lived  in  retire 
ment  for  several  months. 

The  following  note  to  his  niece  well  describes 
bis  condition  at  this  period :  — 


240  GEORGE  RIPLE7. 

NEW  YORK,  June  26,  1861. 

MY  DEAR  NIECE,  —  The  month  of  June  has  al 
most  gone,  and  I  have  not  yet  replied  to  your  very 
kind  note,  inviting  me  to  spend  a  few  days  with  you  in 
Greenfield  before  the  close  of  the  delightful  month. 

But  I  must  not  yield  to  the  temptation  which  you 
place  in  my  way ;  at  present  I  have  neither  health 
nor  spirits  which  would  make  me  a  welcome  guest, 
even  with  the  nearest  relatives ;  and  I  am  so  tied 
down  with  expediting  the  publication  of  our  thirteenth 
volume,  to  make  up  for  the  delay  of  the  last  two, 
that  I  cannot  leave  my  post  without  great  incon 
venience,  although  I  must  manage  to  get  a  few  days 
some  time  in  July,  which  I  have  long  promised  to 
my  Boston  friends.  This  must  be  the  extent  of  my 
visiting  for  the  summer,  but  perhaps  the  pleasant 
autumn  days  may  entice  me  out  of  my  solitude  to 
look  again  on  your  beautiful  hills  and  meadows. 

I  beg  you  to  give  my  kind  remembrances  to  your 
brother  Franklin,  and  my  affectionate  regards  to  my 
new  niece,  whose  acquaintance  I  shall  look  forward 
to  making  with  pleasure.  If  they  should  be  in  New 
York  during  the  summer,  or  at  any  other  time,  I  shall 
depend  on  being  informed  of  their  arrival,  and  shall 
rejoice  to  do  anything  in  my  power  ( little,  indeed,  at 
the  best )  to  make  their  visit  agreeable.  Marianne 
pent  last  Sunday  week  with  me  at  Brooklyn,  and 
on  Monday  I  went  with  her  to  her  green  retreat  at 
Morrisania.  It  is  a  perfectly  rural  place,  abounding 
with  shrubbery  and  flowers,  and  with  a  pleasant  out 
look  on  the  forest.  She  seems  quite  contented  in 


SORROW.  241 

her  new  home,  and  I  have  no  doubt  that  the  change 
of  air  and  scene  will  do  her  good. 

With  my  love  to  your  mother,  and  kind  regards  to 
any  of  my  relatives  you  may  chance  to  see, 

I  remain  ever  your  affectionate  friend  and  uncle, 

G.  R. 

From  this  seclusion  he  emerged  in  many  re 
spects  an  altered  man ;  affable  and  courteous  as 
ever,  winning  in  manner,  sweet  in  disposition, 
but  silent  as  to  his  former  life.  To  the  outside 
observer,  the  casual  acquaintance,  the  tempo 
rary  friend,  the  ordinary  associate  of  the  office 
or  the  parlor,  he  seemed  light-hearted,  chatty, 
companionable.  They  did  not  see  or  know 
what  an  abyss  of  memory  lay  hidden  beneath 
the  charming  verdure  of  his  conversation,  and 
perhaps  thought  that  he  had  ceased  to  think 
of  what  he  did  not  disclose.  A  deep  reserve 
forbade  the  intrusion  of  profane  eyes,  and  he 
passed  through  the  rest  of  his  life  a  man  little 
comprehended  and  for  the  most  part  misunder 
stood.  Naturally,  he,  being  now  alone  and  of  a 
social  disposition,  went  into  society  more  than 
he  was  used  to,  saw  more  people,  sought  more 
the  companionship  and  solace  derived  from  in 
tercourse  with  congenial  friends,  who  never 
found  him  dull  or  self-absorbed.  Still  his  sol 
itary  hours  were  many.  The  fires  were  not 
extinguished;  the  embers  still  were  glowing; 

16 


242  GEORGE  RIPLEY. 

but  a  thick  layer  of  ashes  concealed  them  from 
view,  and  he  suffered  no  breath  but  his  own  to 
blow  it  off,  or  waken  the  brands  to  flame. 

Leaving  Brooklyn,  he  returned  to  New  York  to 
live  quietly  in  his  literary  tasks,  in  the  society 
of  a  few  secluded  friends,  and  the  musings  of 
his  own  heart.  His  week-days  were  passed  in 
the  toil  of  an  exacting  calling ;  on  Sunday  he 
did  not  fail  to  be  in  his  place  at  the  church 
whose  ministrations  carried  him  hack  nearest  to 
the  associations  of  his  youth. 


CHAPTER  VII. 
THE  NEW  DAY. 

THUS  the  uneventful  years  went  on.  His  la 
bors  became  more  concentrated ;  his  engage 
ments  less  distracting.  The  Cyclopaedia  was 
finished.  Work  had  wrought  upon  him  a  sav 
ing,  healing,  consoling  influence.  He  took  a 
wider  range  of  relaxation  ;  he  went  more  freely 
abroad.  One  evening,  at  the  house  of  a  friend, 
he  met  the  lady  who  opened  to  him  the  prospect 
of  a  new  career.  She  was  German  by  birth, 
and  Parisian  by  education  ;  well  born,  well  con 
nected  ;  amiable  ;  a  favorite  among  her  friends, 
respected  by  all  who  knew  her,  attractive  in 
person  and  manner.  She  was  a  widow,  having 
made  an  unfortunate  marriage  in  Germany, 
which  had  been  terminated  in  New  York ;  then, 
rather  than  go  back  to  her  father's  house,  where 
she  was  greatly  desired,  she  preferred  to  main 
tain  herself,  in  America,  as  a  teacher  of  music, 
which  was  one  of  her  accomplishments.  She 
was  younger  than  Mr.  Ripley  by  thirty  years, 
• — so  much  younger,  in  fact,  that  he  proposed  at 
first  to  adopt  her  as  his  daughter,  doubting  if 


244  GEORGE  RIP  LET. 

he  could  ever  marry  again.  This  arrangement 
being  impracticable,  he  made  her  his  wife.  The 
marriage  took  place  in  the  autumn  of  1865, 
and,  it  is  not  too  much  to  say,  disclosed  to  him 
•anew  life.  It  withdrew  him  from  his  seclusion  ; 
brought  him  into  the  social  world  ;  carried  him 
for  the  first  time  to  Europe  ;  threw  him  into  re 
lations  with  eminent  people  in  the  scientific  and 
literary  circles  of  foreign  lands;  enlarged  the 
sphere  of  his  intellectual  sympathy;  and,  in  a 
word,  introduced  him  to  another  order  of  men 
and  women.  From  this  point  his  career  as  a  pub 
lic  man  may  be  said  to  have  begun.  He  was,  as 
before,  a  man  of  letters,  but  his  power  as  a  man 
of  letters  was  more  widely  acknowledged,  if  not 
more  extensively  felt.  He  spent  as  much  time 
as  ever  at  his  desk,  perhaps  more  ;  but  his 
hours  of  solitude  were  fewer.  Society  occu 
pied  them,  bringing  the  relief  of  change  and 
the  stimulus  of  new  thoughts.  Contact  with 
his  kind  quickened  his  intellectual  force.  His 
sympathies  expanded,  and  while  the  Puritan 
austerity  of  his  character  did  not  relax,  the  cor 
diality  of  his  attitude  towards  all  sorts  and  con 
ditions  of  men  was  more  decidedly  marked.  He 
seemed  more  worldly  because  his  world  was 
larger.  A  letter  to  his  sister  belongs  to  this 
period :  — 


THE  NEW  DAT.  245 

NEW  YORK,  February  2&,  1866. 

MY  DEAR  MARIANNE,  — We  were  delighted  to  re 
ceive  your  kind  letter  of  February  4,  but  we  have  both 
of  us  been  in  such  constant  whirl  of  social  engage 
ments  that  writing  has  seemed  pretty  much  out  of 
the  question.  We  still  continue  to  have  a  great  many 
invitations,  and  the  accepting  of  the  same  and  mak 
ing  calls  in  return  absorb  almost  every  hour  of  leis 
ure,  and  we  seldom  have  an  evening  at  home.  Lent 
at  last  brings  a  little  respite,  and  I  begin  to  think  that 
it  is  quite  a  necessary,  if  not  a  beautiful,  institution. 
In  spite  of  everything,  however,  I  have  written  more 
for  "  The  Tribune  "  since  November  1  than  ever  be 
fore.  My  articles  appear  regularly  every  Thursday 
in  the  Daily,  making  nearly  a  page  always,  and 
never  less  than  four  columns  ;  but  it  is  often  some 
time  before  they  appear  in  the  Semi- Weekly  or 
Weekly,  if  they  get  in  at  all.  I  do  write  a  good  deal 
for  "  The  Independent,"  and  have  had  long  articles 
there  on  Robertson's  Memoirs,  Bushnell  on  the 
Atonement,  and  Archbishop  Hughes's  Life. 

I  have  decided  to  go  to  Europe  about  the  last  of 
April,  to  remain  till  the  middle  of  October.  We 
think  of  sailing  from  Boston,  making  our  visit  there 
the  week  previous,  and  would  like  to  spend  a  day  or 
two  in  Greenfield  on  the  way,  if  it  would  n't  put  the 
folks  out  there,  with  the  idea  of  being  obliged  to  en 
tertain  us.  M.  E.  is  very  kind  and  affectionate,  and 
seems  to  take  a  great  interest  in  her  new  relative, 
whom  I  am  sure  she  will  admire  very  much  when 
she  comes  to  know  her.  With  kindest  remembrances 
to  all  the  B.'s.  Yours  ever  truly,  G.  R. 


246  GEORGE  RIPLEY. 

His  first  visit  to  the  Old  World  was  made  in 
the  summer  of  1866,  the  season  of  the  short, 
sharp  war  between  Prussia  and  Austria,  an 
account  of  which  he  wrote  in  letters  to  "  The 
Tribune,"  distinguished  by  the  fullness  and  ac 
curacy  of  their  information,  as  well  as  by  sa 
gacious  observation  of  the  sentiments  of  broth 
erhood  which  were  beginning  to  stir  the  heart 
of  the  German  people,  and  portended  their 
eventual  unity.  His  wife's  relations  in  Stutt 
gart  put  him  in  the  way  of  intelligence  on  this 
subject ;  it  was  the  talk  of  the  dinner-table,  and 
the  papers  in  the  excellent  reading-room  were 
full  of  it.  The  following  letters  to  his  sister 
tell  the  story  of  his  travels  and  the  condition  of 
his  mind  in  words  of  his  own.  His  journal  re 
cords  the  effect  which  the  first  view  of  the  Alps 
made  on  his  mind:  "  It  was  singularly  impress 
ive  and  suggested  profound  reflection.  But  to 
me  it  was  no  place  for  the  study  of  natural  the 
ology,  to  which  use  it  is  often  applied ;  the  ques 
tion  of  absolute  causation  found  no  answer 
here  ;  I  was  struck  with  the  whole  as  a  wonder 
ful  display  of  the  physical  forces  of  the  universe. 
Obvious  law  and  order,  however,  were  wanting. 
The  spectacle  reminded  me  of  nature  in  some 
grim  frolic  or  terrible  convulsion,  rather  than 
of  the  serene  and  fruitful  harmonies  which 
stamp  the  eternal  Cosmos." 


EUROPE.  247 

STUTTGART,  September  13,  1866. 

MY  DEAR  MARIANNE,  —  On  returning  here  on 
the  1st  instant  from  our  August  tour  in  Switzerland 
and  Italy,  I  found  your  good  letter  of  August  13, 
which  gave  us  both  great  pleasure.  We  had  a  truly 
delightful  month  in  traveling  :  the  weather,  almost 
without  exception,  was  perfect,  the  accommodation 
on  the  road  excellent,  and  the  journey  throughout 
filled  with  scenes  of  novelty  and  splendor.  After 
sending  the  little  Carrnela  [daughter  of  Mrs.  R.  by 
the  former  marriage]  and  her  nurse  to  Stuttgart,  we 
left  Baden-Baden  on  the  1st  of  August  for  Switzer 
land.  Since  that  time  I  have  written  nothing  for 
"  The  Tribune."  Now  that  the  war  is  over  I  could 
find  little  to  write  about  that  would  interest  our  read 
ers  ;  for  although  the  objects  one  meets  with  in  trav 
eling  are  full  of  excitement  to  the  observer,  they  have 
been  described  so  often  that  they  seem  like  an  old 
story.  On  leaving  Baden,  in  the  northwest  corner  of 
Switzerland,  I  was  trudging  up  a  steep  hill  to  see  the 
ancient  cathedral,  when  who  should  I  meet  but  my 
friend  C.  T.  Brooks,  the  Unitarian  minister  of  New 
port,  and  the  translator  of  Goethe  and  Richter,  whom 
you  must  know  by  reputation,  if  not  personally.  The 
rencontre  was  quite  unexpected  and  very  agreeable, 
and  I  took  it  as  a  good  omen  on  our  entrance  into 
Switzerland.  Our  next  stage  was  Neuchatel,  passing 
Lake  ^Bienne,  which  is  bordered  for  miles  with  luxu 
riant  vineyards,  in  which  we  could  distinguish  the 
rich  clusters  of  almost  ripe  grapes.  At  Neuchatel, 
which  is  situated  on  a  lake  of  the  same  name,  we  had 


248  GEORGE  RIPLET. 

our  first  distinct  view  of  the  Alps,  giving  us  a  fore 
taste  of  the  mountain  scenery,  which  proved  so  grand 
and  often  so  terrific  on  a  nearer  acquaintance.  From 
Neuchatel  we  proceeded  to  Geneva,  passing  through 
Yverdon,  the  seat  of  Pestalozzi's  famous  experi 
ments  in  education  ;  Lausanne,  where  Gibbon  com 
posed  his  immortal  history  ;  and  Coppet,  where  was 
the  residence  of  Madame  de  Stael,  during  her  ban 
ishment  from  Paris  by  Napoleon.  We  then  went  up 
the  Lake  of  Geneva  to  Vevey,  and,  turning  our  faces 
once  more  to  the  North,  proceeded  through  Freyburg 
to  Berne,  the  capital  of  the  Swiss  Confederacy. 
Here  we  met  Parke  Godwin  and  his  family,  who 
sailed  about  a  month  before  us,  and  have  been  pass 
ing  the  summer  in  Switzerland.  Our  next  movement 
was  to  Thun,  and  up  the  lake  of  that  name  to  Inter- 
lachen,  one  of  the  most  romantic  spots  in  the  alpine 
valleys.  From  here  we  made  excursions  to  Lauter- 
brunnen,  the  Staubbach  Falls,  and  the  glaciers  of 
Grindelwald.  The  next  day  we  crossed  a  branch  of 
the  Alps  by  the  Briinig  Pass  to  Lucerne,  and  had 
our  first  experience  of  the  wonderful  alpine  roads, 
which  are  among  the  greatest  triumphs  of  civil  en 
gineering  in  the  world.  The  path  has  often  been 
gained  by  cutting  through  the  solid  rock,  making  a 
platform,  or  rather  a  shelf,  for  the  carriage  on  the 
side  of  a  precipice.  We  look  down  upon  the  awful 
depths  below ;  but  the  road  is  so  guarded  with  strong 
parapets  that  all  sense  of  danger  is  lost.  The  scen 
ery  is  at  once  majestic  and  beautiful.  Frequent  wa 
terfalls  rush  down  the  side  of  the  mountain,  gloomy 


EUROPE.  249 

heights  tower  above,  while  meadows  of  the  softest 
green  and  richest  vegetation  repose  in  the  distant 
valleys  at  our  feet.  During  our  stay  at  Lucerne  we 
made  an  excursion  on  the  celebrated  lake,  and  visited 
the  scenes  of  the  famous  legends  in  the  history  of 
William  Tell.  The  scenery  in  this  quarter  is  as  re 
markable  in  its  kind  as  any  in  Switzerland,  and  made 
a  deep  impression.  Here  we  made  the  acquaintance 
of  a  charming  English  family  named  Egremont,  con 
sisting  of  the  widow  of  a  clergyman  and  her  two 
daughters.  They  took  a  great  fancy  to  Louisa,  and 
made  themselves  very  agreeable  by  their  simple, 
kind-hearted  manners,  and  their  refined  and  intelli 
gent  conversation.  At  Lucerne  we  also  received  a 
visit  from  my  old  friends  Mrs.  Professor  Robinson 
(Talvi)  and  her  daughters,  from  New  York,  who, 
since  the  death  of  Dr.  Robinson,  have  resided  mostly 
in  Europe.  They  called,  however,  while  we  were 
out,  and  as  we  had  not  time  to  return  the  visit  we 
did  not  see  them. 

"We  now  turn  our  steps  towards  the  east  of  Switz 
erland,  and  by  way  of  Zug,  Zurich,  and  Lake  Wallen- 
stadt  proceed  to  Ragatz  and  Coire.  Here  we  take  a 
private  carriage  for  a  three  days'  journey  over  the 
Alps  to  Lake  Como,  by  the  famous  Spliigen  Pass, 
and  commence  the  most  interesting  portion  of  our 
tour.  We  were  accompanied  by  an  Italian  gentleman, 
an  old  friend  of  my  wife  and  her  family,  whom  we 
met  at  Baden,  and  whose  experience  we  thought 
would  be  of  service  to  us  in  traveling  in  Italy.  I 
can  give  no  idea  of  the  wonderful  road  over  the  al- 


250  GEORGE  RIPLE7. 

pine  heights,  especially  the  stupendous  Via  Mala, 
where  a  path  is  hewn  out  between  two  precipices 
30  feet  from  each  other,  and  between  500  and  600 
feet  above  the  Rhine,  which  forces  itself  through 
the  rocky  bed  as  a  narrow,  roaring  rivulet.  Lake 
Como,  which  we  have  traversed  from  end  to  end, 
presents  a  striking  contrast  in  its  quiet  loveliness, 
and  the  smiling  fields  and  beautiful  villas  on  each 
side.  Thence  we  proceeded  to  Milan  (noblest  of 
cities),  Turin,  Alessandria,  Genoa,  Parma  and  Mo- 
dena,  Bologna,  Florence,  Pisa,  and  Leghorn.  We 
did  not  think  it  prudent  to  extend  our  journey  to 
Rome  and  Naples,  as  the  weather  was  growing  very 
hot,  and  the  season  for  malarial  fever  and  other  dis 
eases  was  at  hand.  The  military  occupation  of  the 
railroads,  near  the  seat  of  war,  also  prevented  us  from 
fulfilling  our  intention  of  visiting  Venice.  On  that 
account  we  were  able  to  make  a  longer  stay  at  Bo 
logna  (the  native  place  of  our  Italian  friend)  and  at 
Milan,  as  lovely  a  city,  I  am  sure,  as  all  the  king 
doms  of  the  earth  can  show.  It  was  time  to  retrace 
our  steps,  and,  proceeding  up  the  delicious  Lake  Mag- 
giore,  we  crossed  the  Alps  in  a  diligence  at  night  by 
the  Bernhardin  Pass,  and,  stopping  at  Friedrichshafen 
(where  the  King  of  Wiirtemberg  has  a  rural  resi 
dence)  and  Ulm,  we  arrived  safe  and  happy  at  Stutt 
gart  on  Saturday,  September  1st.  We  found  Carmela 
and  the  family  well  and  delighted  to  see  us  again, 
and  our  stay  proves  so  agreeable  that  we  decide  to 
remain  here  till  the  16th,  and  then  go  directly  to 
Paris,  instead  of  leaving  on  the  10th  for  the  Rhine, 


EUROPE.  251 

Cologne,  and  Brussels,  as  we  had  intended.  We  ex 
pect  to  remain  in  Paris  about  a  fortnight,  spending 
only  a  day  or  two  in  England  previous  to  sailing  in 
the  Scotia,  October  6th.  I  shall  hope  to  be  in  New 
York  about  the  16th,  and  shall  be  very  glad  to  find  a 
letter  from  you  at  the  Tribune  office,  as  there  will 
be  no  time  to  receive  one  at  Liverpool  before  we 
sail.  I  have  written  to  Mr.  T.,  who  takes  charge  of 
my  affairs  in  my  absence,  to  engage  us  temporary 
lodgings  at  the  Fifth  Avenue  Hotel;  but  beyond  that 
I  have  made  no  arrangement  for  the  winter.  After 
the  quiet  and  beautiful  domestic  life  which  we  have 
enjoyed  for  so  great  a  part  of  the  summer,  the  pros 
pect  of  a  New  York  boarding-house  is  anything  but 
delightful,  and  I  confess  that  I  feel  a  little  dismayed 
at  the  enormous  expense  which  is  involved  for  such 
comparatively  unsatisfactory  returns.  The  mode  of 
life  in  Europe  is  generally  far  more  simple  than  with 
us,  especially  among  people  of  moderate  circum 
stances,  although  more  real  elegance  and  incompar 
ably  more  comfort  can  be  obtained  at  the  same  cost 
than  in  New  York  or  Boston.  I  do  not  wonder  that 
so  many  Americans  prefer  a  long  residence  in  Eu 
rope  from  motives  of  economy,  although  for  myself, 
with  pursuits  so  decidedly  American,  I  am  not 
tempted  to  follow  their  example.  It  will  be  a  great 
sacrifice  to  me,  as  well  as  to  her  mother,  to  leave  be 
hind  the  little  Carmela.  She  is  the  most  faultless  and 
charming  child  that  you  can  imagine,  with  an  uncom 
monly  fine  intellect,  a  most  affectionate  and  loving  dis 
position,  and  a  beauty  of  character  beyond  her  years. 


252  GEORGE  RIP  LET. 

But  she  is  so  much  better  off  here  than  she  could  be 
in  New  York  that  we  do  not  hesitate  for  a  moment. 
Her  grandparents,  moreover,  who  love  her  more  than 
if  she  were  their  own  child,  would  never  consent  to 
part  with  her,  and  as  they  have  brought  her  up  as 
their  own  for  more  than  six  years  their  claim  can 
not  be  disputed.  She  is  in  the  very  best  social  cir 
cles  in  Europe ;  all  her  surroundings  leave  nothing  to 
be  desired.  She  is  in  one  of  the  best  schools  in 
Germany,  and,  with  a  private  governess  and  accom 
plished  masters  in  every  special  branch,  will  receive 
an  education  that,  with  my  limited  means,  it  would 
be  impossible  to  give  her  in  America.  With  every 
thing  that  wealth  and  affection  and  the  highest  social 
standing  among  those  with  whom  her  life  will  prob 
ably  be  passed  can  impart,  I  think  it  would  be  folly 
and  selfishness  on  our  part  to  insist  on  taking  her 
with  us  to  America,  where  it  is  no  easy  matter  to 
establish  and  maintain  a  comfortable  home  for  our 
selves. 

I  am  not  surprised  that  you  decided  to  remain 
so  long  in  Madison.  As  long  as  you  can  keep  a 
contented  mind  there,  perhaps  you  are  better  off 
than  you  could  be  in  Massachusetts.  After  the  de 
parture  of  S B ,  you  will  not  have  much  to 

interest  you,  taking  it  for  granted  that  Mrs.  A 

and  her  daughter  will  be  in  the  vicinity  of  Boston. 
I  am  glad  you  find  so  kind  and  intelligent  a  friend  in 

W—    -  K ,  although  I  have  little  faith  in  any 

attempts  to  promote  Liberal  Christianity  in  the  West. 
Nearly  thirty  years  ago  I  went  over  the  whole  ground, 


HOME.  253 

and,  from  personal  observation  from  Albany  to  Chi 
cago,  became  satisfied  that  during  the  present  age  the 
prospects  of  religious  progress  in  that  quarter  would 
not  be  brilliant.  The  people  are  too  secular,  too 
little  inclined  to  study  and  reflection,  too  much  ab 
sorbed  in  business  and  politics,  to  appreciate  the 
serene  and  beautiful  spirit  of  pure  Christianity. 

I  saw  the  other  day,  in  an  American  newspaper, 
some  account  of  the  will  of  my  old  comrade,  J.  H., 
who,  it  seems,  died  worth  nearly  half  a  million.  He 
had  just  graduated  as  a  charity  scholar  at  Cambridge 
when  I  first  saw  him ;  afterwards  became  a  pro 
fessor,  then  a  railroad  engineer,  and  married  Mrs.  F., 
and  that  is  about  the  last  I  ever  heard  of  him.  Pray 
tell  me  all  you  know  about  it.  I  fear  you  will  hardly 
have  patience  to  read  this  long  yarn,  and  will  be  glad 
that  Louisa  is  so  taken  up  with  visitors  that  she  is 
not  able  to  write  this  time.  With  kind  regards  from 
her  and  me  to  Mr.  B.  and  family, 

I  am  truly  yours,  G.  R. 

NEW  YORK,  November  1,  1866. 

MY  DEAR  MARIANNE,  —  I  take  it  for  granted  that 
you  have  received  my  letter  of  some  ten  days  since, 
announcing  our  safe  return.  We  have  taken  very 
pleasant  lodgings,  No.  122  Madison  Avenue,  in  a 
private  family,  with  only  six  or  eight  other  boarders, 
and  consider  ourselves  quite  fortunate  in  having  been 
able  to  make  arrangements  for  the  winter  so  speedily 
and  so  agreeably.  The  price,  however,  is  so  far  in 
advance  of  my  means  and  plans,  that,  as  soon  as  I 


254  GEORGE  RIPLET. 

can  find  a  more  suitable  shelter,  I  shall  not  fail  to 
do  so. 

Since  my  return  I  have  not  had  leisure  to  turn 
round,  much  less  to  write  anything  but  what  was 
strictly  necessary  in  my  daily  tasks,  which  I  resumed 
a  week  ago  last  Monday.  I  have  constant  visits, 
both  at  the  house  and  office,  which  consume  my  time, 
and  make  the  days  and  evenings  all  too  short.  Au 
gusta,  as  we  generally  call  her  now,  is  warmly  wel 
comed  home  by  our  friends,  both  old  and  new.  She 
is  still  troubled  with  a  cough,  but  she  is  looking  re 
markably  well,  and  I  trust  the  cough  is  not  of  a  seri 
ous  nature,  although  it  has  now  hung  on  for  several 
months.  A  few  years  ago  she  suffered  in  a  similar 
way  from  the  effect  of  the  Brooklyn  air,  and  was 
obliged  to  remove  to  New  York,  but  was  at  last  cured 
by  the  use  of  cod-liver  oil.  She  is  very  happy  in  our 
new  lodgings,  and  likes  New  York  better  than  I  do, 
although  she  is  naturally  a  little  homesick  at  times 
after  the  dear  little  Carmela  and  her  parents,  who 
love  her  so  much.  But  she  makes  friends  of  all  who 
know  her. 

I  have  written  much  more  than  I  expected  to  do 
when  I  began,  and  hope  to  receive  an  answer  soon. 
Don't  think  me  indifferent  to  the  progress  of  Liberal 
Christianity  in  the  West.  I  only  suggested  some  ob 
stacles  from  my  own  experience  ;  but  no  doubt  great 
changes  have  taken  place  since  I  was  there. 

Ever  yours,  G.  R. 


THE  NEW  DAT.  255 

NEW  YORK,  February  12, 1867. 

MY  DEAR  MARIANNE,  —  I  have  both  your  letters 
of  January  18th  and  28th,  but,  as  usual,  have  been  so 
busy  as  not  to  be  able  to  find  a  moment  for  writing 
in  reply.  "  The  Tribune,"  in  its  enlarged  form,  gives 
me  more  space  than  heretofore,  and  as  a  rule  I  have 
two  or  three  columns  twice  a  week,  usually  on  Thurs 
days  and  Saturdays,  besides  a  column  of  literary 
items  on  Monday,  which  it  is  a  good  day's  work  to 
prepare.  I  also  find  it  convenient  to  do  whatever 
extra  work  I  can  find,  and  at  present  contribute  a 
good  deal  to  "The  Independent,"  which  "The  Spring 
field  Republican  "  says  is  edited  by  infidels  and  Uni 
tarians.  In  last  week's  paper,  the  articles  on  Par- 
ton's  "  Webster,"  N.  P.  Willis,  and  Victor  Cousin 
were  mine,  though  without  my  name.  I  have  other 
articles  on  hand,  and  shall  continue  to  write  from 
time  to  time,  so  you  see  my  pen  has  to  keep  jogging 
on  in  the  old  track,  and  leaves  me  little  leisure  for 
anything  else.  We  are  not  visiting  quite  so  much  as 
last  winter.  Augusta  still  suffers  from  a  cough,  and 
is  not  able  to  go  out  often  in  the  evening,  and,  unless 
the  weather  is  pleasant,  she  stays  in  the  house  all 
day.  She  had  an  attack  of  bronchitis  three  years 
ago,  and  has  coughed  more  or  less  ever  since.  In 
other  respects  she  has  excellent  health,  is  always  in 
fine  spirits. 

We  had  very  pleasant  letters  last  week  from  Stutt 
gart,  from  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Horner,  little  Carmela,  her 
governess,  and  from  an  old  friend  of  my  wife's,  for 
merly  her  governess,  now  living  at  Baden-Baden, 


256  GEORGE  RIPLE7. 

where  we  saw  her  in  July.  Carmela  writes  me  a 
letter  in  English,  in  which  she  is  making  rapid  and 
good  progress,  and  I  trust  will  speak  it  as  well  as 
German  by  the  time  we  see  each  other  again.  She 
is  a  sweet,  loving  child,  very  attractive  in  all  her 
ways,  and  without  any  apparent  fault.  We  are  both 
homesick  for  her  always,  but  I  would  not  on  any  ac 
count  have  her  in  our  rough-and-tumble  city  until  she 
is  a  good  deal  older  than  she  is  now.  She  is  now 
in  a  quiet,  domestic  atmosphere,  with  every  possible 
advantage  for  education  and  health,  and,  although 
petted  by  her  grandparents,  seems  to  be  entirely  un 
spoiled.  She  is  very  fond  of  her  u  papa  and  mamma," 
and  with  her  artless  and  affectionate  nature  wins  the 
love  of  all  who  know  her.  I  forgot  whether  I  told 
you  that  she  has  taken  my  name,  and  is  now  called 
Carmela  Ripley. 

I  rather  regret  that  a  small  annual  sum  could 
not  be  provided  for  our  sister  during  the  short 
time  that  she  will  probably  remain  with  us ;  as  in 
that  case  I  should  be  able  not  only  to  make  a  lib 
eral  contribution,  but  to  supply  any  deficiency,  so 
that  she  should  not  have  the  fear  of  want,  which  is 
really  worse  than  actual  poverty,  as  long  as  she  lives. 
As  it  is,  I  presume  that  I  can  occasionally  do  enough, 
with  my  limited  means,  to  keep  her  from  suffering, 
although  it  is  incomparably  more  to  my  taste  to  have 
a  fixed  and  regular  arrangement  than  to  leave  such 
things  in  uncertainty.  1  sent  her  $100  the  first  of 
February,  which  I  hope  will  do  for  the  present;  but 
should  you  learn  in  any  way  that  there  is  need  of 


THE  NEW  DAT.  257 

more,  you  must  not  hesitate  to  inform  me.  We  can 
not  be  too  thankful  that  the  enterprising  Rachel  did 
not  persuade  her  to  join  the  wild-goose  Jaffa  scheme, 
which  she  was  strangely  inclined  to  do  a  year  ago.  .  .  . 
It  was  quite  an  adventure  for  you  to  go  up  to  the 
grand  Sanhedrim  at  Milwaukee,  and  I  am  sure  you 
must  have  enjoyed  it  very  much.  I  am  happy  to 
hear  such  good  accounts  of  Mr.  Kimball ;  your  inter 
est  in  him  and  in  his  religious  plans  is  better  for  you 
than  any  medicine,  though  I  do  not  advise  you  to 
take  Liberal  Christianity  as  a  drug.  He  is  evidently 
one  of  the  offshoots  of  the  great  banian-tree  planted 
by  Theodore  Parker,  which  take  root  wherever  they 
find  a  congenial  soil,  and  bring  forth  abundance  of 
beautiful  and  wholesome  fruit.  "What  a  treat  it  was 
to  you,  to  be  sure,  to  meet  the  seraphic  R.  W.  E. 
away  up  there  in  your  ends  of  the  earth !  I  have  seen 
him  several  times  within  a  year,  —  this  winter,  just 
before  he  started  for  the  West.  I  really  think  he 
grows  softer  and  more  human  in  his  old  age.  With 
kindest  love  from  Augusta  and  me  to  the  family, 
Ever  yours  faithfully,  G.  R. 

The  enjoyment  derived  from  this  visit,  the 
sense  of  refreshment  after  so  many  years  of 
wearing  toil,  the  feeling  of  mental  expansion, 
of  elation,  arising  from  an  extended  intercourse 
with  nature  and  men,  naturally  made  him  wish 
to  visit  Europe  again,  more  at  his  leisure ; 
accordingly,  in  the  spring  of  1869  he  made 
arrangements  for  a  more  comprehensive  tour, 

17 


258  GEORGE  RIPLET. 

embracing  London,  the  abode  of  so  many  men 
of  power  in  science,  philosophy,  and  literature ; 
and  Italy,  which  was  to  be  the  scene  of  the 
ecclesiastical  Council  designed  to  reanimate  the 
faith,  unite  the  sympathies,  and  quicken  the  zeal 
of  Catholic  Christendom.  The  experiences  of 
this  trip  are  recorded  in  a  series  of  remarkable 
letters  to  ''The  Tribune,"  too  long  to  be  printed 
in  full,  and  too  solid  to  be  abbreviated.  The 
first  is  dated  "at  sea,  May  20th."  Mr.  Ripley 
enjoyed  the  ocean  voyage,  the  leisure,  the  oppor 
tunity  for  random  reading,  the  easy,  various 
society,  the  stir  of  life  among  the  sailors,  the 
aspects  of  water  and  sky.  He  had  no  suffering 
from  sea-sickness,  was  happy  and  companiona 
ble,  full  of  practical  wisdom,  without  assump 
tion  or  pretense.  He  was  but  ten  days  in 
London,  at  the  height  of  the  season,  too;  his 
pockets  filled  with  letters  of  introduction  to  dis 
tinguished  people,  whom  he  was  interested  to 
see ;  his  mind  teeming  with  new  suggestions, 
and  alive  to  all  impressions  of  genius  in  indi 
viduals  and  in  the  people.  Every  hour,  con 
sequently,  was  occupied.  The  description  of 
Derby  Day  was  written  in  London,  May  27th, 
but  it  was  not  till  he  reached  Baden-Baden,  in 
the  middle  of  July,  that  time  was  allowed  for 
a  tranquil  review  of  his  exciting  visit  to  the 
metropolis  of  the  world.  The  usual  objects 


ENGLAND.  259 

which  attract  the  stranger  are  passed  by  with 
out  notice :  the  Tower,  the  ancient  city,  the 
historic  houses,  streets,  squares ;  the  Temple, 
the  Monument,  the  relics  of  antique  grandeur, 
the  Museum,  the  public  and  private  picture- 
galleries,  the  art  collections,  the  theatres,  clubs, 
concerts,  parks,  gardens,  palaces,  receive  no 
attention.  He  is  absorbed  in  the  study  of 
human  nature  in  its  actual  condition,  the 
physical  and  mental  peculiarities  of  the  peo 
ple,  the  state  of  society,  efforts  to  reform 
abuses,  popular  habits  and  tastes,  movements 
towards  harmony  in  trade  and  religion,  cur 
rents  of  opinion  among  scientific  men  of  all 
orders,  tendencies  of  speculation  in  the  world 
of  thought,  the  men  and  women  whose  names 
were  associated  with  intellectual  advance,  the 
prospects  of  civilization  in  its  higher  aspira 
tions.  Two  or  three  extracts  from  a  not  very 
copious  and  somewhat  too  personal  journal  for 
public  eyes  will  give  an  idea  of  his  alertness  of 
mind :  — 

Wrote  a  Dote  to  Prof.  Jowett,  asking  permission 
to  pay  my  respects  to  him,  as  a  prominent  man  in 
the  English  movement  for  a  more  liheral  theology. 
Had  a  very  gracious  reception.  Talked  of  Emerson, 
T.  Parker,  Frances  Power  Cobbe,  with  whom  he  has 
entire  sympathy,  and  Bunsen.  Touched  on  President 
Johnson  and  American  politics  generally.  Sound  in 


260  GEORGE  RIPLEY. 

Northern  faith.  He  is  a  mild,  pleasant-looking  man, 
of  about  forty-five,  of  brisk,  lively  manners  (perhaps 
not  unlike  Dr.  Bushnell),  quite  free  from  affectation, 
and  an  agreeable,  unpretending  talker.  English  in  his 
jtones  and  ways.  Cake  and  wine  on  the  table,  which 
he  offered  me,  but  I  did  not  partake.  He  keeps 
bachelor's  hall  in  a  spacious  suite  of  rooms,  ek'-ant 
but  not  splendid.  Very  comfortable  and  home-look 
ing, —  a  mode  of  life  which  every  true  student  might 
envy.  Celibacy  is  common  in  Oxford,  but  by  no 
means  universal  even  among  the  Fellows.  Cultivated 
to  a  high  degree,  and  with  excellent  taste,  his  better 
instincts  prompt  him  to  seek  a  more  liberal  theology 
than  that  of  the  Church,  but  he  is  a  follower  of  lead 
ing  minds,  not  a  path-finder.  Probably  inferior  to 
Colenso  in  boldness  and  sagacity,  certainly  in  prac 
tical  influence. 

Impressed  with  the  commercial  greatness  arid  power 
of  London.  Admirable  physique  of  the  people.  Emer 
son's  description  true  to  the  life.  Prevailing  igno 
rance  beyond  a  certain  line.  Great  order  and  ex 
ternal  morality  in  the  streets. 

I  like  very  much  to  witness  the  displays  of  human 
strength.  Whether  physical  or  intellectual,  the  spec 
tacle  is  amost  equally  interesting.  The  sight  of  or 
ganized  labor  has  a  perpetual  charm. 

Called  on  John  Bright,  Herbert  Spencer,  Lcn's 
Blanc,  W.  II.  Channing.  None  at  home  but  Louis 
Blanc.  A  keen,  black-eyed,  vivacious  Frenchman, 


EUROPE.  261 

full  of  fire  and  enthusiasm,  demonstrative  in  his  man 
ner,  and  eloquent  in  his  discourse.  He  speaks  Eng 
lish  correctly,  but  with  a  strong  French  accent,  uses 
much  gesture,  and  declaims  rather  than  talks.  He 
commands  the  language  more  easily  in  its  rhetorical 
forms  than  in  familiar  conversation.  He  seems  to 
be  born  for  a  political  orator,  and  should  be  in  the 
legislature.  We  talked  of  French  and  American 
politics,  on  which  he  gave  an  elaborate  dissertation. 
His  bearing  is  earnest  and  affectionate,  too  expressive 
for  common  occasions. 

An  idea  of  his  activity  may  be  conveyed  by 
the  subjects  of  his  letters:  G.  W.  Smalley, 
John  Bright,  Thorold  Rogers,  a  cooperative 
congress  ;  the  working  people  of  England  ; 
Thomas  Hughes,  W.  H.  Channing,  meeting 
for  free  Christian  Union,  Athanase  Coquerel, 
J.  J.  Taylor,  James  Martineau ;  Scientific  Inter 
views,  Professor  Tyndall,  Philosophical  Club, 
Professor  Huxley ;  Mr.  Congreve  and  Positiv 
ism,  Dr.  Carpenter;  Herbert  Spencer;  Thomas 
Carlyle ;  Louis  Blanc ;  Frances  Power  Cobbe ; 
Henry  Morley;  English  railways,  porters,  cab 
men,  horses  ;  English  hotels,  costume,  business 
habits,  mode  of  speaking,  etc.  These  mani 
fold  themes  are  treated  deliberately,  carefully, 
always  discerningly,  usually  with  all  needed 
fullness.  In  cases  where  his  sympathy  was  en 
listed,  or  where  the  public  interest  might  be 


262  GEORGE  RIPLEY. 

supposed  to  be  secure,  the  notice  became  dis 
cussion,  intelligent  and  ample. 

The  early  summer  was  spent  in  travel,  of 
which  no  record  remains.  For  him  there  would 
not  be  much  in  Paris,  or  any  smaller  cities 
between  London  and  the  delightful  valley  where 
lies  the  charming  Baden-Baden,  the  favor 
ite  summer  resort  of  his  wife's  family.  Here 
the  tired  man  had  rest.  Early  in  August  he 
started  for  a  few  weeks'  travel  in  Switzer 
land  and  Southern  Germany.  His  course  led 
directly  to  Geneva  by  way  of  Basle  and  Neu- 
chatel ;  thence  to  Chamouny.  Martigny,  Ville- 
neuve,  Vevey,  Berne,  InterLiken,  and  over  the 
Brunig  to  Lucerne,  stopping  on  the  road  long 
enough  to  visit  places  of  interest,  enjoy  the 
scenery,  and  take  in  the  spirit  of  the  country ; 
from  Lucerne  to  Fluelen,  up  the  St.  Gothard 
and  Furca  Passes  to  the  Rhone  glacier,  coming 
back  to  Lucerne.  This  was  a  fresh  starting- 
point  to  Zurich,  Schaffhausen,  Constance,  and 
Germany.  Ulm,  Augsburg,  Nuremberg,  Hof, 
and  Dresden  led  by  slow  stages  to  Berlin,  which 
was  reached  in  season  for  the  Humboldt  festi 
val,  September  14th.  Here  were  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
George  Bancroft,  and  here  a  delightful  week 
was  spent  in  public  and  private  festivities. 
From  Berlin  the  travelers  went  to  Hamburg 
for  a  few  days,  thence  back  to  Stuttgart  through 


ITALY.  263 

Hanover,  Frankfort,  Mannheim,  and  Heidelberg. 
At  Stuttgart  there  was  another  rest  from  Sep 
tember  26th  to  October  26th. 

From  Stuttgart  Mr.  Kipley  and  his  wife  went 
to  Munich,  Vienna,  over  the  Semmering  Pass  to 
Gratz,  Trieste,  Venice,  Milan,  Bologna,  Flor 
ence,  to  Rome.  Neither  Munich  nor  Vienna 
engaged  long  or  deeply  a  man  who  had  no 
passionate  love  for  painting,  sculpture,  music, 
or  the  purely  aesthetic  arts  which  minister  so 
largely  to  the  enjoyment  of  strangers  in  those 
pleasant  cities.  The  grandeur  of  the  Semmer 
ing  Pass  impressed  him  as  much  by  the  comfort 
of  its  railway  accommodations  and  the  skill  of 
the  engineering  as  by  the  wildness  of  its  wintry 
landscape.  The  charming  town  of  Gratz  was 
interesting  through  the  refinement  of  its  soci 
ety,  the  intellectual  character  of  its  best  people, 
and  the  beauty  of  its  situation.  At  Trieste  he 
visited  the  tomb  of  Winkelmann,  and  renewed 
his  old  acquaintance  with  Mr.  A.  W.  Thayer, 
the  devotee  of  Beethoven.  Venice  detained 
him  a  few  days,  but  had  no  enchantment  for 
him.  In  Milan  he  admired  the  cleanly  streets 
and  well-developed  population.  The  art  of 
Florence  engaged  him  less  than  the  schools, 
churches,  sanitary  condition,  and  municipal 
regulations  of  the  town.  The  Florence  of  the 
future  was  more  interesting  to  him  than  the 


26*4  GEORGE  RIFLE  7. 

Florence  of  the  past.  Between  Florence  and 
Rome  he  made  no  stop,  though  Perugia  and 
Assisi  both  lay  in  his  track.  His  impressions 
of  Rome  are  best  conveyed  in  the  letters  which 
he  sent  to  li  The  Tribune,"  wherein  he  described 
not  only  the  (Ecumenical  Council  which  lie 
went  there  to  portray,  but  the  city  itself,  as  it 
appeared  twelve  years  ago.  On  the  whole,  it  is 
not  probable  that  the  famous  gathering  in  the 
Eternal  City  had  any  more  capable  critic  than 
he.  Scholars  inside  the  Church  were  preju 
diced  one  way ;  scholars  outside  the  Church 
were  prejudiced  another.  Mr.  Ripley  was  a 
Protestant,  but  he  was  a  philosopher  and  a  man 
of  letters,  serious  as  well  as  candid,  as  free 
from  prejudices  as  one  can  be  who  has  con 
victions  ;  for  thoughtfulness  and  love  of  truth 
combined  to  make  him  just.  He  was  a  close 
observer  of  whatsoever  came  under  his  eye  ;  for 
example,  in  Rome  he  noticed  that  the  horses 
were  shod  only  on  the  forefeet,  and  were  driven 
with  a  nose-band  instead  of  a  bit,  in  single 
harness,  though  provided  with  a  safety  rein 
communicating  with  a  curb-bit  in  case  of  need. 
He  descants  on  the  health  of  Rome,  and  makes 
shrewd  observations  on  the  evil  mode  of  build 
ing,  ventilation,  heating.  A  little  hump-backed 
beggar  girl  on  the  Spanish  steps  attracts  his 
attention  and  enlists  his  interest  more  than  the 


ROME.  265 

grandees.  The  Jews  in  the  Ghetto  engage  his 
sympathy  by  their  family  affection,  their  in 
dustry,. their  sobriety,  and  their  patience.  He 
is  disappointed  in  the  beauty  of  feature  and 
form  of  the  Roman  women.  He  studies  the 
countenances  of  the  priests,  the  habits  of  the 
common  people,  the  effects  of  the  Catholic  re 
ligion  and  the  papal  rule  on  the  population, 
the  organization  of  instruction,  the  character  of 
journalism,  and  whatever  besides  may  concern 
an  observer  of  society. 

As  the  proceedings  of  the  Council  became 
monotonous  and  spring  advanced,  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Ripley  left  Rome  for  a  short  trip  to  the  south 
of  Italy,  Naples,  Palermo,  of  which  no  record 
remains.  The  climate  was  not  favorable  to  ex 
cursions,  and,  under  such  circumstances,  there  is 
little  enjoyment  in  those  regions,  especially  to 
a  traveler  who  is  without  home  pursuits.  The 
summer  brought  them  back  to  Germany  and 
to  the  routine  of  family  life,  always  so  grateful 
to  this  man  of  studious  habits.  His  hearty  en 
joyment  of  intellectual  things  and  of  New  Eng 
land  associations  was  amusingly  shown  in  the 
delight  he  expressed  on  discovering  at  a  book 
shop  a  volume  of  Mr.  Emerson's  essays,  which 
had  appeared  since  his  departure  from  home. 
His  glee  finds  voice  in  his  joarnal,  where  it  is 
unusual  that  so  much  space  is  given  to  any  one 
subject : — 


266  GEORGE  RIPLEY. 

I  discovered  a  copy  of  Emerson's  "  Society  and 
Solitude,"  republished  in  London  by  Sampson  Low. 
The  sight  of  it  was  like  manna  in  the  wilderness.  I 
became  the  happy  owner  of  it  at  once,  and  it  afforded 
me  a  rich  feast  for  the  rest  of  the  journey.  Some 
portions  of  it,  I  think,  are  equal  to  anything  that 
Emerson  has  ever  written.  Emerson  is  a  great  mas 
ter  in  his  way.  His  style  has  an  incomparable  charm. 
Its  silvery  rhythm  captivates  the  ear.  The  affluence 
of  his  illustrations  diffuses  a  flavor  of  oriental  spicery 
over  his  pages.  As  he  confesses  in  the  essay  on 
"  Books,"  his  learning  is  second-hand  ;  but  every 
thing  sticks  which  his  mind  can  appropriate.  He  de 
fends  the  use  of  translations,  and  I  doubt  whether  he 
has  ever  read  ten  pages  of  his  great  authorities,  Plato, 
Plutarch,  Montaigne,  or  Goethe,  in  the  original.  lie 
is  certainly  no  friend  of  profound  study,  any  more 
than  of  philosophical  speculation.  Give  him  a  few 
brilliant  and  suggestive  glimpses,  and  he  is  content. 
His  catalogue  of  books  is  limited  in  the  extreme,  and 
presents  few  hints  of  practical  value.  Much  of  the 
work  is  devoted  to  the  comparative  influence  of  soli 
tude  and  society,  in  addition  to  the  chapter  with  that 
title.  The  subject  is  touched  in  several  of  the  essays, 
especially  in  those  on  "  Clubs  "  and  "  Domestic  Life." 
Emerson  is  fond  of  conversation,  but  it  always  disap 
points  him.  With  him  it  is  an  experiment  constantly 
repeated,  but  always  without  success.  His  final 
conclusion  is  that  the  true  man  has  no  companion. 
There  may  be  times  when  two  persons  may  hold  gen 
uine  communion,  but  the  presence  of  a  third  person  is 


EMERSON.  267 

impertinent,  and  always  breaks  the  charm.  Such  oc 
casions,  however,  are  rare,  and  must  be  numbered  by 
moments,  and  not  by  hours.  His  remarks  on  Art 
show  his  want  of  philosophic  culture.  The  principal 
point  which  he  urges  is  that  Nature  is  the  foundation 
of  Art,  and  that  the  great  Artist  is  spontaneous,  and 
not  reflective  ;  both  good  points,  but  by  no  means 
original.  Take  away  the  splendid  language  in  which 
they  are  clothed,  I  find  that  but  little  valuable  in 
struction  remains.  There  are  frequent  hints  of  the 
grand  Platonic  theory  of  the  True,  the  Beautiful,  the 
Good,  as  the  exponents  of  the  Infinite  in  Humanity, 
which  long  since  ripened  in  my  mind,  as  the  true 
"  Intellectual  System  of  the  Universe  ;  "  but  he  does 
not  appear  to  be  aware  of  its  fathomless  significance. 
In  thus  renewing  my  acquaintance  with  Emerson, 
I  am  struck  with  certain  rare  combinations  which  may 
serve  to  explain  his  position.  His  rejection  of  dog 
mas  is  cool  and  merciless ;  but  he  shows  no  sympathy 
with  vulgar  and  destructive  radicalism.  He  asserts 
an  unlimited  freedom  of  the  individual,  but  maintains 
a  moral  tone,  rigid  almost  to  asceticism.  With  the 
wild  havoc  which  he  makes  of  popular  opinion,  he  al 
ways  respects  the  dignity  of  human  nature.  Emer 
son  is  essentially  a  poet.  His  intuitions  are  in  the 
form  of  images.  Few  men  have  such  positive  tend 
encies  toward  the  Ideal.  But  his  sympathy  with  ex 
ternal  nature  is  equally  strong.  He  is  a  keen  and 
accurate  observer.  His  perceptions  are  true,  so  far 
as  concerns  the  material  world  and  the  qualities  of 
character  that  are  universal  in  man.  His  judgment 


268  GEORGE  R1PLEJT. 

of  individuals  is  often  prejudiced.  The  practical 
shrewdness  interwoven  with  his  poetical  nature  is 
one  of  the  secrets  of  his  power.  You  attempt  to  fol 
low  his  lofty  flight  among  the  purple  clouds,  almost 
believing  that  he  has  "  hitched  his  wagon  to  a  star," 
when  ho  suddenly  drops  down  to  earth,  and  surprises 
you  with  an  utterance  of  the  homeliest  wisdom.  On 
this  account,  when  they  get  over  the  novelty  of  his 
manner,  plain  men  are  apt  to  find  themselves  at  home 
with  him.  His  acquaintance  with  common  things, 
all  household  ways  and  words,  the  processes  of  ev- 
ery-day  life  on  the  farm,  in  the  kitchen  and  stable, 
as  well  as  in  the  drawing-room  and  library,  engages 
their  attention,  and  produces  a  certain  kindly  warmth 
of  fellowship,  which  would  seem  to  be  incompatible 
with  the  coldness  of  his  nature.  Emerson  is  not  with 
out  a  tincture  of  science.  He  often  makes  a  happy 
use  of  its  results,  in  the  way  of  comparison  and  illus 
tration.  But  I  do  not  suppose  that  he  could  follow 
a  demonstration  of  Euclid,  or  one  of  the  fine  analyses 
in  physics  of  Tyudall  or  Huxley.  Of  such  a  writer 
as  Herbert  Spencer  he  has  probably  no  more  than  a 
faint  comprehension.  Emerson  has  less  wit  than  I 
have  usually  been  inclined  to  believe ;  of  humor  only 
a  slender  trace.  Perhaps  the  subtlety  and  refinement 
of  his  illustrations  may  sometimes  have  the  appear 
ance  of  wit,  but  not  its  real  flavor  or  effect. 

It  may  be  interesting  to  compare  this  with 
an  earlier  sketch  :  — 

With  the  admiration   that  Mr.   Emerson's  works 


EMERSON.  269 

have  called  forth  to  so  remarkable  an  extent,  it  would 
be  a  poor  compliment  to  the  understanding  of  his 
readers  to  question  their  extraordinary  merit.  There 
must  be  something  in  their  intrinsic  character  which 
touches  a  deep  chord  in  the  human  heart,  for  they  are 
almost  entirely  destitute  of  the  qualities  which  are 
usually  the  conditions  of  a  high  reputation. 

One  is  immediately  struck  with  the  passionless  tone 
in  which  Mr.  Emerson's  statements  are  set  forth. 
They  seem  like  the  utterance  of  a  being  who  has  no 
part  in  flesh  and  blood.  He  is  never  beguiled  into 
error  by  the  indulgence  of  his  sympathies.  His 
words  are  dealt  out  with  an  elaborate  nicety,  as  if 
they  were  the  dread  oracles  of  fate.  This  habitual 
reticence  gives  a  peculiar  coloring  to  his  style.  It 
has  the  purity,  the  radiant  whiteness,  of  the  virgin 
snow,  but  also  its  coldness.  .  .  . 

The  passionless  tone  of  his  writings,  combined  with 
the  tendency  to  a  sharp  and  unrelenting  analysis,  pre 
serves  Mr.  Emerson  from  every  symptom  of  a  sec 
tarian  or  party  bias.  ...  In  fact,  his  aversion  to 
system  would  prevent  him,  under  any  circumstances, 
from  exerting  a  more  than  individual  influence  ;  sys 
tem  to  him  is  slavery.  ...  If  we  may  guess  the 
methods  naturally  adopted  by  his  intellect,  from  the 
universal  character  of  his  writings,  we  should  say 
that  any  regular  sequence  or  continuity  of  thought 
was  altogether  foreign  to  his  habits.  He  lives  in  the 
sphere  of  contemplation,  not  of  consecutive  reflec 
tion.  We  find  no  traces  of  the  progressive  evolution 
of  thought  which  produces  such  an  admirable  effect 


270  GEORGE  RIP  LEY. 

in  works,  for  instance,  like  the  Dialogues  of  Plato, 
which  Mr.  Emerson  cannot  but  acknowledge  as  mas 
terpieces  of  human  genius.  .  .  . 

Nor  in  the  sphere  of  moral  convictions  is  Mr. 
Emerson  free  from  similar  inconsequences.  He  pays 
a  profound  homage  to  the  moral  sentiment  in  man, 
the  eternal  law  of  right,  which  manifests  itself  equally 
in  purity  of  heart  and  the  gravitation  of  the  planets, 
but  he  has  no  perception  of  the  passionate  humanity, 
the  potent  attraction,  which  identifies  private  and  uni 
versal  interests ;  and  accordingly  he  finds  the  highest 
form  of  character  in  the  preservation  of  a  stern,  frigid, 
stoical  individuality.  This  error  is  the  cardinal  defect 
of  his  writings,  and  exhausts  them  of  the  moral  vital 
ity  and  vigor  which  would  give  an  electric  glow  to 
his  brilliant  intuitions.  .  .  . 

The  secret  of  Mr.  Emerson's  unquestionable 
strength  lies  in  the  profound  sincerity  of  his  nature. 
In  his  freedom  from  all  affectation,  in  his  attachment 
to  reality,  in  his  indignant  rejection  of  all  varnish, 
gilding,  and  foppery,  whether  in  character  or  in  liter 
ature,  he  has  scarcely  an  equal.  He  looks  at  the 
universe  with  his  own  eyes,  and  presents  the  report 
of  his  vision,  like  the  testimony  of  a  man  under  oath. 
He  feels  the  intrinsic  baseness  of  deception,  and  is 
equally  unwilling  to  play  the  part  of  a  pretender  or 
a  dupe.  In  listening  even  to  his  mystic  suggestions, 
you  are  sure  that  no  attempt  is  made  to  put  you  off 
with  words,  and  that  the  obscurest  expression  stands 
for  some  fact  in  the  mind  of  the  speaker.  He  gives 
you  himself,  and  not  the  dry  bones  of  some  grisly 
ancestor. 


EMERSON.  271 

This  truthfulness  to  himself  is  the  pledge  of  origi 
nality.  His  writings  thus  possess  the  sparkling  fresh 
ness  of  a  salient  fountain.  Plis  thought  and  his  im- 
gery  alike  are  the  product  of  his  own  nature.  They 
could  not  have  been  derived  from  any  other  source. 
Used  by  any  one  but  himself,  they  would  appear 
forced  and  trivial.  But  flowing  in  their  honeyed 
sweetness  from  his  lips,  they  seem  so  redolent  of  all 
delicious  aromas  that  they  might  even  allure  the 
swarm  of  bees  that  rested  on  the  mouth  of  Plato. 

Mr.  Emerson's  instincts  impel  him  to  penetrate  to 
the  hidden  essence  of  things.  He  is  never  content 
with  the  most  obvious  view,  which  is  oi'ten  only  the 
mask  of  reality.  If  this  sometimes  gives  his  pages 
an  air  of  too  subtle  refinement,  and  leads  us  to  sus 
pect  that  many  of  his  Orphic  sentences  are  only  in 
genious  conceits  or  brilliant  paradoxes,  it  also  adds  a 
marvelous  force  to  the  frequently  occurring  passages 
which  startle  us  by  the  radiant  light  they  throw  on 
subjects  which  had  been  concealed  in  the  "  Infinite 
Profound."  This  tendency  characterizes  all  his  judg 
ments  of  man,  of  history,  and  of  literature.  His 
opinions  derive  a  peculiar  value  from  their  unceas 
ing  exercise.  Even  when  we  are  compelled  to  show 
them  no  quarter,  it  is  never  on  the  ground  of  their 
being  superficial  or  commonplace. 

His  philosophy,  which  teaches  that  God  and  him 
self  are  the  sole  existences,  is  confirmed  by  his  per 
sonal  idiosyncrasies.  Hence  he  leaves  no  realm  of 
beauty  uuvisited.  He  gathers  the  most  impressive 
and  magnificent  images  from  every  sphere  of  nat  ure, 


27-  GEORGE  RIPLE7. 

from  tlie  loftiest  to  the  lowest.  The  plow  in  the  fur 
row,  "  the  meal  in  the  tub,  and  the  milk  in  the  pan," 
present  him  no  less  fruitful  sources  of  inspiration 
than  the  starry  heavens  and  the  purple  dawn.  Coldly 
as  he  looks  on  individual  life  and  sympathy  in  them 
selves  considered,  he  loves  to  draw  materials  for  his 
affluent  poetical  eloquence  from  the  humblest  phases 
of  humanity.  He  has  sufficient  familiarity  with  the 
lore  of  books  to  furnish  out  a  dozen  pedants.  In  the 
exuberant  life  of  his  expressions  we  never  think  of 
his  learning,  because  he  has  not  been  mastered  by  it 
himself. 

But  charming  as  all  this  was,  the  worker 
could  not  remain  idle.  A  socialist  convention 
at  Stuttgart  excited  an  ardent  interest  in  the 
old  Brook  Farmer,  whose  aspirations  after  a 
better  human  condition  never  became  cool,  and 
who,  though  very  far  from  being  a  socialist  in 
any  customary  sense,  could  not  help  watch 
ing  sympathetically  any  movements  looking 
towards  a  readjustment  of  social  relations. 
This,  too,  was  the  summer  of  the  war  between 
France  and  Prussia,  the  beginnings  and  early 
stages  of  which  he  reported  in  four  remarkable 
letters. 

In  the  autumn  of  1870  he  was  again  in  New 
York,  at  his  post  of  duty,  rejoicing  in  the  exer 
cise  of  his  literary  faculties  under  conditions  of 
his  own  choosing,  and  in  New  York  he  passed 
the  remainder  of  his  days. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

RECOGNITION. 

A  NATIONAL  INSTITUTE  of  Letters,  Arts, 
and  Sciences  was  projected  in  1868,  in  the  or 
ganization  of  which  Mr.  Ripley  took  an  active 
part,  and  in  the  conduct  of  which  he  would  have 
been  prominent,  if  it  had  succeeded.  The  plan 
commanded  his  entire  sympathy.  So  hearty 
was  his  interest  that  he  spoke  of  his  member 
ship  in  a  slight  sketch  of  himself,  made  for  a 
biographical  volume,  and,  in  his  journal,  solilo 
quized  in  a  strain  of  earnestness  that  is  inter 
esting  in  itself,  but  especially  interesting  as  re 
vealing  the  bent  of  his  disposition  :  — 

For  myself,  I  have  no  ambition  to  be  gratified  in 
the  matter.  I  rather  like  the  consciousness  of  pos 
sessing  merit,  which,  with  my  want  of  sympathy  with 
the  present  form  of  society,  I  have  taken  pains  to 
hide,  rather  than  to  bring  before  the  public.  But  it 
pleases  my  taste  to  breathe  again  the  intellectual  and 
literary  atmosphere  in  which  I  was  so  much  at  home 
in  Boston,  —  to  which  I  am  so  much  a  stranger  in 
New  York.  Hence,  this  Institute  awakens  in  me  an 
interest  something  like  those  glorious  reunions  of  old 
18 


274  GEORGE  RIPLET. 

times.  The  presence  of  great,  or  even  greatly  culti 
vated,  men  exerts  a  certain  gracious  magnetism  over 
my  nature,  calls  out  my  best  faculties,  and  gives  me  a 
higher  consciousness. 

lint,  above  all,  this  Institute  may  do  much  toward 
spreading  sound  knowledge,  elevating  the  intellectual 
standard,  and  giving  a  healthy  tone  to  literature  in 
this  country.  I  feel  something  as  Buckminster  did 
when  he  said  that  he  was  justified  in  laying  out  so 
much  money  on  the  purchase  of  books,  because  his 
library  might  have  some  effect  in  preventing  the 
country  from  lapsing  into  "  unlettered  barbarism," 
to  which  it  was  exposed  by  the  power  of  the  money- 
making  interest. 

Hence,  I  mean  to  work  for  the  Institute  as  far  as 
I  can,  without  neglecting  other  duties.  It  will  give 
me  a  stronger  tie  to  society ;  it  will  help  to  brighten 
and  keep  fresh  my  powers  ;  it  will  open  to  me  a 
sphere  for  the  use  of  gifts  that  have  lain  dormant 
for  some  time,  and  enable  me  to  do  more  for  the 
objects  to  which  my  life  has  been  devoted,  the  im 
provement  and  elevation  of  mankind. 

In  February,  1874,  the  choice  fell  on  him  to 
deliver  the  address  on  occasion  of  laying  the 
corner-stone  of  the  new  Tribune  building  on 
the  site  of  the  old  one.  His  words  are  worth 
remembering :  — 

FRIENDS  AND  FELLOW-LABORERS,  —  We  have 
assembled  to-day  in  commemoration  of  the  past  and 
for  the  consecration  of  the  future.  The  original 


"THE  TRIBUNE."  275 

foundation  of  "  The  Tribune  "  was  laid  in  sentiment 
and  ideas.    Horace  Greeley  was  a  man  of  no  less  pro 
found  convictions  than  of  lofty  aspirations.    The  ten 
derness  of  his  emotional  nature  was  matched  by  the 
strength  of  his  intellect.      He  was  a  believer  in  the 
progress  of  thought  and  the  development  of  science  ; 
in  the  progress  of   society  and   the  development  of 
humanity.      Under  the  influence  of  this  inspiration, 
"  The  Tribune  "  was   established  more   than  thirty 
years  ago.      At  that  time  its  basis  was  spiritual,  and 
not  material ;  strong  in  ideas,  but  not  powerful    in 
brick  and  mortar,  in  granite  or  marble,  in  machinery 
or  in  money.      We  have  come  to-day  not  to  remove 
this  foundation,  but  to  combine  it  with  other  elements, 
and  thus  to  give  it  renewed  strength  and  consistency. 
It  is  our  purpose  to  clothe  the  spiritual  germ  with  a 
material   body,  to    incorporate    the   invisible   forces 
which  inspired  the  heart  of  our  founder  in  a  visible 
form,  in  the  shape  of    a  goodly  temple,  massive  in  its 
foundation,  fair  in  its  proportions,  and  sound  in  its 
purposes.    The  new  "Tribune"   of  to-day,  like  the 
old  "  Tribune  "  of  the  past,  is  to  be  consecrated  to  the 
development  of  ideas,  the  exposition  of  principles,  and 
the  promulgation  of  truth.     The  ceremony  which  is 
now  about  to  be  performed  typifies  the  union  of  spir 
itual  agencies  with  material  conditions,  and  thus  pos 
sesses  a  significance  and  beauty  which  anticipate  the 
character  of  the  coming  age.     The  future  which  lies 
before  us,  it  is  perhaps  not  presumptuous  to  affirm, 
will  be   marked  by  a  magnificent  synthesis  of   the 
forces  of  material  nature  and  the  power  of  spiritual 
ideas. 


276  GEORGE  RIPLEY. 

Allow  me  one  word  in  illustration  of  this  prophecy, 
and  I  will  yield  the  place  to  the  fair  hands  and  the 
fair  spirit  whose  presence  on  this  occasion  crowns  the 
scene  with  a  tender  grace. 

About  two  years  before  the  establishment  of  "The 
Tribune,"  dating  from  the  death  of  Hegel  in  1831, 
and  of  Goethe  in  the  following  year,  the  tendency  of 
thought  on  the  continent  of  Europe,  which  had  been 
of  an  intensely  ideal  or  spiritual  character,  began  to 
assume  an  opposite  direction.      Physical  researches 
rapidly  took  precedence  of  metaphysical  speculation. 
Positive  science  was  inaugurated  in  the  place  of  ab 
stract  philosophy.    The  spiritual  order  was  well-nigh 
eclipsed  by  the  wonderful  achievements  of  the  mate 
rial  order.    A  new  dynasty  arose  which  knew  not  Jo 
seph,  and  the  ancient  names  of  Plato  and  Descartes 
and  Leibnitz  were  dethroned  by  the  stalwart  host 
which  took  possession  of  the  domain  of  physical  sci 
ence.     I  need  not  rehearse  the  splendid  discoveries 
which  have  signalized  this  period.     Such  acquisitions 
to  the  treasury  of   positive  human   knowledge  have 
never  been  made  in  an  equal  time  in  the  history  of 
thought.    More  light  has  been  thrown  on  the  material 
conditions  of  our  existence  on  earth  than  has  been  en 
joyed  before,  since  the  morning-stars  first  sang   to 
gether.     But  the  signs  of  the  times  indicate  the  com 
mencement  of  a  reaction.    The  age  accepts  the  results 
of  physical  research,  but  refuses  to  regard  them  as  the 
limit  of  rational  belief.   In  resolving  matter  into  mole 
cules  and  molecules  into  atoms,  the  most  illustrious 
cultivators  of  physical  science  cheerfully  confess  tha/ 


RECOGNITION.  277 

they  arrive  at  invisible  forces,  which  no  crucible  can 
analyze,  no  microscope  detect,  no  arithmetic  explain. 
The  alleged  materialism  of  Tyndall  aiid  Huxley  thus 
affords  an  unexpected  support  to  the  idealism  of 
Berkeley. 

"  The  Tribune,"  it  may  be  predicted,  will  continue 
to  represent  the  intellectual  spirit  of  the  age.  Faith 
ful  to  its  past  history,  it  will  welcome  every  new  dis 
covery  of  truth.  Free  from  the  limitations  of  party, 
in  philosophy  or  religion,  in  politics  or  science,  it  will 
embrace  a  wider  range  of  thought,  and  pursue  a 
higher  aim  in  the  interests  of  humanity.  Watching 
with  its  hundred  eyes  the  events  of  the  passing  time, 
it  will  wait  for  the  blush  of  the  morning  twilight, 
which  harbingers  the  dawn  of  a  brighter  day.  As 
we  now  place  the  votive  tablet  on  its  rocky  bed,  let  it 
symbolize  the  radiant  scroll  of  human  knowledge  re 
posing  on  the  foundation  of  eternal  truth. 

That  same  year  (the  tribute  was  richly  de 
served,  for  never  did  private  man  make  his  in 
fluence  more  widely  or  commandingly  felt  in 
high  places  than  he)  the  University  of  Michi 
gan  conferred  on  him  the  degree  of  LL.  D.  It 
was  fitting  that  such  an  honor  should  be  paid 
by  a  western  college  to  one  who  had  so  closely 
at  heart  the  welfare  of  mankind,  and  who  cher 
ished  such  ardent  hopes  for  the  future  of  hu 
manity.  From  one  of  the  older  institutions  of 
the  country,  Harvard  or  Yale,  such  a  tribute 
Bright  not  have  been  equally  appropriate  ;  for, 


278  GEORGE  RIPLEY. 

though  advanced  in  years,  he  was  a  child  of  the 
new  age,  not  a  creature  of  the  past  so  much  as 
a  builder  of  the  coming  civilization.  From  this 
moment  he  was  a  Doctor  of  Laws,  —  he,  the 
disciple  of  a  spiritual  philosophy,  the  inaugura- 
tor  of  Brook  Farm,  the  prophet  of  a  better  dis 
pensation,  the  critic  of  codes  and  institutions, 
the  devotee  of  ideas,  the  less  than  half-hearted 
observer  of  forms  which  failed  to  convey  a 
thought.  That  the  honor  was  welcome  we  may 
easily  believe,  for  the  recognition  of  merit  is  al 
ways  gratifying  to  its  possessor ;  and  probably 
it  was  not  the  less  welcome  as  coming  from  the 
land  of  promise. 

No  one  took  more  hearty  interest  than  he  in 
the  tributes  of  respect  that  were  paid  to  his 
friend  Bayard  Taylor  after  his  appointment  as 
Minister  to  Berlin,  and  previous  to  his  departure 
on  his  mission.  The  Penn  Club  of  Philadelphia 
invited  him  to  a  reception,  which  he  could  not 
attend,  but  to  which  he  sent  a  response  full  of 
admiration  for  the  traveler,  journalist,  poet, 
and  man  of  letters,  who  had  gladdened  every 
State  in  the  Union,  and  who,  without  doubt, 
would  apply  the  old  Quaker  virtues  to  his  new 
sphere  as  a  diplomatist.  The  condition  of  his 
health  also  forbade  his  taking  part  at  the  ban 
quet  given  to  Mr.  Taylor  in  New  York.  At  the 
final  hour  he  was  obliged  to  send  the  following 
note :  — 


BAYARD   TAYLOR.  279 

37  WEST  19xH  STREET,  April  4,  1878. 

DEA.R  MR.  COWDIN, —  At  the  last  moment  I  find, 
as  I  feared,  that  my  health  will  not  permit  me  to  at 
tend  the  banquet  this  evening. 

Having  labored  side  by  side  with  Bayard  Taylor 
for  so  many  years,  —  for,  strange  as  it  may  appear,  to 
night  he  is  my  senior  in  the  profession  of  journalism 
in  this  city,  —  having  so  long  witnessed  his  devotion 
to  duty,  his  energy  of  action,  the  kindliness  of  his  dis 
position,  and  the  sweet  and  humane  piety  of  his  nat 
ure,  if  I  may  so  call  it,  as  manifested  in  the  love  of 
whatever  is  beautiful  and  good,  I  should  have  been 
gratified  to  comply  with  your  request  to  "  offer  a  few 
remarks  ; "  but  as  I  cannot  now  expand  into  a  speech, 
I  will  ask  your  leave  to  offer  a  sentiment :  — 

"  Our  honored  and  beloved  guest :  the  pupil  of  two 
school-masters  of  the  most  widely  opposite  character, 
—  the  immortal  founder  of  Pennsylvania  and  the 
illustrious  poet  of  Germany,  —  who,  combining  the 
home-bred  principles  of  William  Penn  with  the  cult 
ured  wisdom  of  Goethe,  will  bring  the  power  of  sim 
plicity  to  the  practice  of  diplomacy. 

Whose  armor  is  his  honest  thought, 
And  simple  truth  his  utmost  skill.  " 

I  remain,  dear  Mr.  Cowdin,  yours  faithfully, 

GEO.  RIPLEY. 

His  feeling  in  regard  to  William  Cullen  Bry 
ant,  who  died  in  June  of  the  same  year,  is  ex 
pressed  in  the  draft  of  an  epitaph,  which  was 
found  among  his  papers.  It  was  never  used  :  — 


280  GEORGE  RIPLEY. 

Sacred  to  the  Memory  of 

W.  C.  B. 

In  order  of  time  and  excellence  of  genius 

one  of  the  fathers  of  American  poetry  ; 

a  writer  of  consummate  English  prose;  by  his  wisdom 

and  insight  a  journalist  of  masterly  power ; 

though  holding  no  public  office, 

a  statesman,  of  incorruptible  integrity,  of  lofty  pa 
triotism,  and  of  supreme  devotion  to  the  highest 

interests  of  his  country. 
As  a  man,  austere,  religious,  self-contained; 

his  life  was  an  expression  of  his  poetry, 

his  death  an  illustration  of  the  spirit  of  "  Thauatopsis." 

B.  Nov.  3,  1794. 

When  Oliver  Wendell  Holmes  reached  his 
seventieth  birthday  nothing  was  more  natural 
than  that  the  publishers  of  "  The  Atlantic 
Monthly,"  which  he  had  glorified  by  his  genius, 
should  celebrate  the  occasion  by  a  banquet ;  nor 
was  anything  more  natural  than  their  wish  that 
the  literary  editor  of  "The  Tribune"  should 
grace  it  by  his  presence.  He  could  not  go  to 
Boston,  but  he  responded  to  the  invitation  in  a 
tone  that  gave  assurance  of  his  sincere  affection 
for  the  guest,  and  of  his  readiness  to  acknowl 
edge  the  service  of  all  good  workers  in  the  cause 
of  letters.  The  word  of  regret  which  represented 
him  at  the  Brunswick  breakfast  carried  in  it  a 
heart  full  of  thanks:  — 


0.    W.  HOLMES.  281 


YORK,  November  25,  1879. 

DEAR  SIR,  —  I  am  truly  sorry  that  it  is  not  in 
my  power  to  accept  your  kind  invitation.  It  would 
give  me  the  sincerest  pleasure  to  join  in  the  honors 
to  the  beloved  poet,  who,  from  my  pupil  in  the  uni 
versity,  has  become  my  teacher  in  the  high  school  of 
life.  I  would  fain  add  a  leaf  to  the  laurel  which  will 
crown  his  brow,  and  confess  my  debt  for  the  smiling 
wisdom,  the  exquisite  humor,  the  joyous  hilarity,  the 
tender  pathos  that  softens  the  lambent  wit  of  the 
man  who,  on  the  verge  of  old  age,  has  never  grown 
old,  and  with  the  experience  of  years  preserves  the 
freshness  of  youth. 

With  my  best  wishes  that  the  light  of  his  eventide 
may  long  shine  with  the  morning  beauty  of  his  early- 
manhood,  I  am  most  cordially, 

His  friend  and  yours,  GEO.  RIPLET. 

When  the  plan  of  a  "Memorial  History  of 
Boston  "  was  outlined,  a  chapter  entitled  "  Bos 
ton's  Place  in  the  History  of  Philosophic 
Thought,"  in  the  fourth  and  last  volume,  was, 
naturally,  assigned  to  Mr.  J.  Elliot  Cabot,  a 
Boston  man,  living  near  Boston,  an  accomplished 
scholar,  a  diligent  student  in  philosophy,  a 
profound  and  original  thinker  on  the  problems 
which  have  most  deeply  engaged  the  human 
mind.  On  his  declining  the  task  by  reason  of 
preoccupation,  it  was,  at  the  suggestion  of  ex 
cellent  judges,  Dr.  F.  H.  Hedge  being  of  the 
number,  offered  to  Mr.  Ripley,  as  the  best  man 


282  GEORGE  RIPLE7. 

they  could  have;  his  remoteness  from  Boston 
being  waived  in  consideration  of  the  impartial 
ity  and  comprehensiveness  which  distance  might 
give  to  his  view.  He,  though  immersed  in  lit 
erary  occupation,  accepted  the  duty  at  once, 
and  instantly  set  about  the  studies  preparatory 
to  his  sketch.  He  measured  his  space,  selected 
his  names,  refreshed  and  fortified  his  recollec 
tions,  searched  the  processes  of  development, 
wrote,  rewrote,  weighed  his  words  in  scales  of 
exact  justice,  and  submitted  his  manuscript  to 
his  intimate  friend  George  Bancroft  before 
trusting  it  to  the  publisher.  The  pen  dropped 
from  his  fingers  midway  in  the  work,  and  the 
uncompleted  chapter  was  finished  by  another 
hand ;  admirably  finished,  too,  but  not  quite 
according  to  the  plan  which  Mr.  Ripley  laid 
out,  and  which  he  alone  could  complete.  The 
scheme  was  as  remarkable  for  clearness  as  it 
was  for  candor  of  judgment,  and  the  composi 
tion  is  among  the  most  careful  productions  of 
his  skill.  The  space  accorded  to  the  writer  did 
not  permit  a  more  extended  range  of  thought ; 
it  is  simply  astonishing  that,  having  no  more 
room,  so  much  that  was  valuable  should  have 
been  compressed  into  it.  It  is  matter  of  regret 
that  Mr.  Ripley's  excessive  modesty  prevented 
his  yielding  to  Dr.  Channing's  frequent  re 
quest  that  he  would  write  an  account  of  mod 


CHARACTERISTICS.  283 

ern  philosophical  systems.  The  fragment  left 
us  in  the  "  Memorial  History  "  —  so  penetrat 
ing,  calm,  and  fair  —  makes  the  regret  keen. 
A  comprehensive  work  done  in  that  spirit  would 
possess  singular  worth ;  for  such  complete  ex 
clusion  of  the  partisan  temper,  combined  with 
firmness  of  intellectual  description,  rare  in  any 
discussion,  is  quite  unexampled  in  the  discus 
sion  of  those  tormenting  subjects  which  have 
been  closely  bound  up  with  the  issues  of  relig 
ious  faith.  The  admixture  of  sentimentality 
with  charitableness  commonly  weakens  the  tol 
eration,  and  makes  the  impartiality  to  be  some 
thing  less  than  justice.  In  the  case  of  George 
Ripley  the  line  between  religious  feeling  and 
philosophic  thought  was  so  sharply  drawn  that 
he  could  be  at  the  same  time  discerning  and 
believing,  devout  and  fair.  In  his  disposition, 
literature  and  dogma  never  clashed.  The  in 
tellectual  poise  was  perfect.  However,  at  times, 
the  strength  of  his  personal  affections  might  in 
cline  him  to  overpraise  the  work  of  a  friend,  a 
sense  of  equity,  stealing  out  in  some  critical  line 
or  phrase,  was  certain  to  render  the  verdict  true 
on  the  whole. 

The  honors  which  bore  witness  to  the  appre 
ciation  of  George  Ripley 's  extraordinary  capac 
ity,  the  general  recognition  of  his  literary  merit, 
the  high  place  assigned  to  him  as  a  critic  of 


284  GEORGE  RIP  LET. 

books,  the  public  and  private  admission  of  his 
authority  in  the  realm  of  letters,  did  not  in  the 
least  degree  impair  his  conscientiousness,  or  di 
minish  the  carefulness  of  his  work.  No  obscure 
man  toiling  for  fame  labored  harder  than  he  did 
to  meet  every  condition  of  excellence.  His  pa 
tience  was  inexhaustible;  his  persistency  was 
prodigious.  He  would  sit  in  his  chair  all  day 
long,  reading  and  writing,  unconscious  of  fa 
tigue,  insensible  to  annoyance,  heedless  even  of 
interruption,  never  complaining  of  over-pressure, 
piercing  the  heart  of  a  volume  with  a  glance, 
and  throwing  off  page  after  page  of  manuscript 
with  an  ease  of  touch  which  betokened  the 
trained  mind  as  well  as  the  practiced  hand. 
To  report  the  literary  achievement  of  the  last 
ten  years  of  his  life  would  be  impossible.  The 
columns  of  "The  Tribune"  bear  witness  to  an 
amazing  variety  of  toil,  all  executed  with  fidel 
ity,  much  of  it  with  distinguished  power,  some 
of  it  with  rare  elegance  and  grace  of  execution. 
The  range  of  topics  embraces  the  extremes  of 
mental  productiveness  from  the  speculations  of 
philosophy  to  creations  of  fancy.  Within  this 
period  come  the  remarkable  papers  on  Voltaire, 
Rousseau,  Goethe,  Carlyle,  Bryant,  which  at 
the  time  they  appeared  were  thought  marvels  of 
literary  performance.  Some  of  his  most  acute 
judgments  of  opinions  and  men  are  found  in 


CHARACTERISTICS.  285 

these  fugitive  notices  ;  some  of  his  most  pene 
trating  glances  into  the  unrevealed  tendencies 
of  thought.  The  review  of  Bascom's  "  Com 
parative  Psychology  "  is  a  luminous  essay  on 
the  distinctions  of  thought  which  separate  the 
schools  of  mental  science  from  each  other ;  the 
review  of  Arnold's  "  Literature  and  Dogma " 
is  a  good  example  of  the  resolution  with  which 
the  truth  is  insisted  on,  in  spite  of  the  literary 
grace  that  conceals  and  the  ingenious  specula 
tion  that  confuses  it.  In  no  instance  is  judg 
ment  perverted.  His  antipathy  to  Joaquin  Mil 
ler  (to  cite  a  strong  example)  does  not  pre 
vent  him  from  giving  Miller  credit  for  "  bold 
ness  of  conception,  vividness  of  description,  and 
freshness  and  force  of  utterance." 

The  characteristics  of  Mr.  Ripley's  literary 
method  may  easily  be  described.  The  feature 
of  his  work  which  stands  out  conspicuously  is 
faithfulness  of  conception  and  execution.  Be 
fore  dealing  with  any  matter  of  importance  he 
made  careful  preparation.  Among  his  papers 
are  sketches  and  studies  for  his  review  of  Pro 
fessor  Bascom's  book,  for  example.  A  vast 
deal  of  thought  was  bestowed  on  the  chapter 
in  the  "  Memorial  History  of  Boston ;  "  many 
scraps  of  paper,  containing  hints,  suggestions, 
names  of  prominent  thinkers,  titles  of  books, 
which  formed  links  in  the  chain  of  philosoph- 


286  GEORGE  RIP  LEY. 

ical  development.  In  mastering  the  system  of 
Hartmann,  nothing  would  do  but  a  study  of  the 
author  in  the  original  German.  The  review 
of  Professor  Bowen's  volume  had  beneath  it  a 
close  personal  acquaintance  with  the  systems 
there  described.  The  estimates  of  Voltaire, 
Rousseau,  Lessing,  Goethe,  Huxley,  Spencer, 
to  mention  no  more,  were  the  result  of  wide 
reading,  patient  thought,  and  large  consider 
ation  of  historic  mental  conditions.  His  short 
est  notices  usually  contain  some  intimation  of 
knowledge  acquired  in  independent  investiga 
tions.  A  distinguished  orator,  being  asked  how 
he  avoided  in  public  the  use  of  slang  phrases, 
replied,  "  By  always  avoiding  the  use  of  them 
in  private  intercourse."  On  no  easier  terms  can 
purity  of  speech  be  preserved. 

The  competency  of  Mr.  Ripley's  literary 
judgments  has  often  been  remarked  on.  He 
did  not  wait  till  others  had  spoken,  and  then 
venture  an  opinion.  He  spoke  at  once,  and  he 
spoke  with  confidence,  as  one  who  had  good 
reason  for  what  he  said.  Whether  the  book  in 
question  was  the  "  Scarlet  Letter,"  the  "  Ori 
gin  of  Species,"  or  the  "  Light  of  Asia,"  the 
verdict  was  equally  prompt  and  decided.  There 
was  no  dogmatism,  no  boasting,  no  claim  to  spe 
cial  insight,  no  affectation  of  patronage  ;  simply 
a  quiet  recognition  of  talent  and  an  apprecia- 


CHAR  A  CT ERISTICS.  287 

tion  of  its  value  in  the  world  of  letters.  That 
his  judgments  were  generally  confirmed  by  spe 
cialists  is  an  evidence  of  their  intrinsic  worth ; 
that  they  were  usually  ratified  by  the  public 
testifies  to  his  knowledge  of  the  public  taste. 

The  literary  unprejudiced  spirit  of  his  criti 
cisms  appears  in  his  treatment,  so  generous, 
yet  so  nicely  balanced,  of  such  totally  dissimi 
lar  men  as  George  H.  Lewes  and  Herbert  Spen 
cer,  the  former  of  whom  he  distrusted,  while  in 
the  latter  he  had  confidence.  The  criticism  on 
Judge  Tourgee's  novel,  "  A  Fool's  Errand,"  is 
a  remarkable  instance  of  equitable  judgment 
on  the  part  of  one  whose  anti-slavery  feelings 
were  not  ardent,  and  whose  political  sympa 
thies,  though  clear,  were  not  tinctured  by  party 
fanaticism.  His  agreement  or  disagreement 
with  the  author  under  review  was  felt  to  have 
no  connection  with  the  verdict  of  the  critic. 

It  has  been  said  again  and  again,  in  fact  it 
has  become  the  fashion  to  say,  that  George  Rip- 
ley  belonged  to  the  class  of  "genial"  critics, 
who  prophesy  smooth  things,  who  seldom  notice 
what  they  cannot  praise,  who  pick  out  of  books 
the  passages  they  can  commend,  and  encourage 
where  they  should  condemn.  They  who  say 
this  cannot  be  thinking  of  the  frequent  in 
stances  in  which  he  exposed  literary  preten 
sion,  or  of  the  severity  of  his  treatment  when- 


288  GEORGE  RIP  LEY. 

ever  shallowness  or  charlatanism  tried  to  get 
access  to  the  public  ear.  A  survey  of  his  work 
during  a  period  of  thirty  years  leaves  no  im 
pression  of  such  literary  "  good-nature  "  as  he 
has  been  charged  with.  The  careful  reader 
will  not  fail  to  notice  the  qualification  which 
is  introduced  into  his  most  eulogistic  articles, 
sometimes  in  a  paragraph,  sometimes  in  a  line, 
sometimes  in  a  guarded  expression.  Even  his 
friends,  who  could  not  doubt  his  private  affec 
tion,  have  occasionally  been  surprised  at  the 
chariness  of  his  admiration  for  their  most  ex 
cellent  performance ;  supposing  that  he  would 
share  their  enthusiastic  sentiments  towards 
their  achievement,  or  that,  if  he  lacked  the  dis 
cernment,  he  would,  at  all  events,  be  restrained 
by  personal  attachment  from  making  the  news 
paper  a  confidant  of  his  indifference. 

For  the  rest,  his  appreciation  of  excellence, 
his  desire  to  encourage  excellence  wherever 
found,  his  sense  of  the  importance  of  calling 
forth  the  intellectual  stores  of  the  people,  his 
confidence  in  the  medicinal  qualities  of  praise, 
his  sympathy  with  struggling  talent,  his  natural 
hopefulness,  and  his  steady  allowance  for  imper 
fection  in  all  human  workmanship  abundantly 
explain  the  so-called  "  geniality  "  of  his  literary 
temper.  He  was  afraid  of  chilling  the  buds 
of  genius.  He  believed  in  sunshine,  in  warm, 


CHARACTERISTICS.  289 

persuasive,  enticing  air,  in  gentle  breezes,  in 
gracious  showers  of  rain,  in  balmy  seasons ; 
well  knowing  how  easily  ambition  is  disheart 
ened.  Many  an  author  whose  place  in  the 
world  of  letters  is  secure  looks  back  gratefully 
to  his  helping  counsel,  ascribing  to  him  the 
strong  impulse  which  was  needed  to  overcome 
the  diffidence  of  youth ;  and  many  an  author, 
whose  diffidence  required  pruning  in  order  that 
the  fine  fruit  of  talent  might  appear,  is  grate 
ful  to  him  for  kind  suggestion  thrown  in  at  the 
decisive  moment.  Both  praise  and  blame  were 
felt  to  be  judicious  as  well  as  benignant.  The 
judiciousness  tempered  the  benignity;  but  the 
benignity  furnished  the  motive  for  the  judi 
ciousness. 

His  modesty  was  as  remarkable  as  his  ca 
pacity.  A  young  friend,  ambitious  and  indus 
trious,  having  in  the  dedication  of  his  first  book 
spoken  of  him  as  "  the  Nestor  of  4  The  Trib 
une,'  "  and  called  him  "  the  Father  of  Literary 
Criticism  in  the  American  Press,"  received  from 
him  the  following  note  :  — 

OFFICE  OF  THE  AMERICAN  CYCLOPAEDIA, 
NEW  YORK,  May  20,  1875. 

MY  DEAR  W ,  —  I  have  no  objection  what 
ever  to  your  connecting  my  name  with  yours  in  your 
forthcoming  volume,  if  it  will.be  any  pleasure  to  you 
or  any  service  to  your  book ;  on  the  contrary,  your 
19 


290  GEORGE  RIP  LEY. 

friendly  recognition  is  very  agreeable  to  me.  But  I 
must  unequivocally,  decidedly,  peremptorily  —  and  if 
there  is  any  other  longer  and  stronger  dictionary 
word,  please  pick  it  out  —  protest  against  the  extrav 
agant  and  untenable  form  in  which  you  have  worded 
it.  Though  an  old  soldier,  I  am  no  Nestor ;  though 
of  the  masculine  gender,  no  father  of  American  lit 
erary  criticism,  nor  of  anything,  or  anybody  else. 
When  I  have  the  pleasure  of  seeing  you  again,  I  will 
enlighten  your  youthful  mind  on  the  history  of  Amer 
ican  criticism,  and  you  will  hide  your  head  in  re 
morse.  At  present  think  of  Bryant,  Verplanck,  Cogs 
well,  Henry,  Godwin,  Greeley,  Raymond,  in  New 
York  ;  Dana,  Clianning,  Tudor,  Willard,  Sparks,  Ev 
erett,  Palfrey,  AVillanl  Phillips,  in  Boston,  —  all  of 
whom  were  distinguished  reviewers  and  critics  before 
my  name  was  ever  heard  of,  except  as  "  a  Socinian 
minister,  who  left  his  pulpit  in  order  to  reform  the 
world  by  cultivating  onions  "  (Carlyle). 

As  I  have  corrected  and  curtailed  the  inscription, 
it  is  modest  and  inoffensive,  and  "  if  it  does  no  good 
will  not  do  any  harm." 

If  you  have  any  account  of  conversations  with  the 
present  victim,  I  should  be  glad  to  see  the  report,  and 
meantime,  my  good  old  trapper, 

I  am  yours  ever,  G.  R. 

It  is  unnecessary  to  say  that  the  inscription 
was  not  printed  as  designed,  and  yet  it  was  true 
in  the  main.  George  Ripley  was  the  "  father 
of  literary  criticism  in  the  American  press,' 


CHARACTERISTICS. 

though  not,  of  course,  in  America.  The  Amer 
ican  press  was  not  fairly  in  existence  in  the 
time  of  Sparks,  Everett,  Palfrey,  and  others 
named  in  the  above  letter.  There  were  local 
papers,  of  wider  or  narrower  influence,  and  they 
contained,  incidentally,  valuable  literary  criti 
cism.  But  the  empire  of  a  few  great  journals 
—  an  empire  built  upon  the  basis  of  cheap  post 
age,  and  made  possible  by  the  accumulation  of 
talent  and  the  expenditure  of  money  —  was  es 
tablished  later.  "The  Tribune  "  is  barely  forty 
years  old ;  and,  previous  to  its  birth,  criticism 
of  the  higher  order  was  confined  to  magazines 
like  "  The  North  American  Review"  (quarter 
ly),  "  The  Christian  Examiner  "  (bi-monthly), 
"  The  Literary  Messenger,"  Arthur's  "  Home 
Gazette,"  and  two  or  three  others  of  limited 
circulation.  The  work  of  Mr.  Ripley  was  nat 
urally  less  ponderously  elaborate  than  the  heav 
ier  periodicals  required ;  it  was  a  combination 
of  the  scholarly  and  the  popular  as  yet  unat- 
tempted  :  precisely  there  lay  its  originality,  and 
original  in  a  very  true  sense  it  undoubtedly  was. 
Others  —  Bryant,  Raymond,  Greeley —  did  ad 
mirable  service  by  the  way,  but  the  greater  por 
tion  of  their  strength  was  devoted  to  political 
discussion.  George  Ripley  gave  all  his  time 
and  all  his  energy  to  literary  criticism,  spend 
ing  on  it,  too,  the  full  resources  of  a  richly  fur- 


292  GEORGE  RIPLET. 

nished  mind,  and  infusing  into  it  the  spirit  of  a 
broad  and  noble  training. 

His  intellectual  temperament  aided  Lira  in 
bis  task.  The  absence  of  passion  was  a  great 
advantage.  The  lack  of  ardent  partisan  feeling 
made  possible  the  calm,  clear,  judicial  temper 
so  necessary  to  the  critic.  The  want  of  what 
may  be  called  the  "  artistic  constitution,"  which 
delights  in  music,  painting,  sculpture,  architect 
ure,  did  something  to  insure  the  equability  of 
his  poise.  His  mental  force  was  not  wasted  by 
emotion  or  attenuated  by  distraction.  He  was 
no  dreamer,  no  visionary,  no  enthusiast,  no 
creature  of  imagination  or  fancy.  He  was, 
through  and  through,  a  critic,  gentle  but  firm, 
intelligent,  exact,  holding  the  interests  of  truth 
paramount  to  all  others,  always  hoping  that  the 
interests  of  truth  might  be  served  by  the  effort 
of  careful  writers. 

His  extreme  conscientiousness,  amounting  to 
fastidiousness,  his  jealousy  of  the  movement  of 
his  own  mind,  his  absence  of  personal  ambition, 
his  appreciation  of  intellectual  difficulties  and 
individual  aberrations,  his  lack  of  enjoyment  in 
the  creative  process,  and  his  habit  of  austere 
self-recollection,  will  help  to  explain  his  back 
wardness  in  authorship.  Not  often  are  author 
and  critic  united  in  the  same  person.  The  one 
art  requires  different  faculties  from  the  other , 
at  all  events,  a  different  direction  of  the  facul- 


CHARACTERISTICS.  293 

ties.  The  author's  impulse  is  outward,  away 
from  the  centre,  towards  a  waiting,  expectant 
public,  desiring  to  be  instructed  or  entertained. 
The  critic's  bent  is  inward,  back  to  the  centre, 
away  from  the  public,  who  are  not  supposed  to 
be  interested  in  his  performance.  His  business 
is  to  make  distinctions,  —  to  analyze,  not  to 
construct,  —  and  in  doing  this  he  must  come 
back  continually  to  standards  of  judgment  which 
exist  in  his  own  mind. 

That  George  Ripley  was  capable  of  sustain 
ing  himself  in  a  long  flight  was  proved  by  the 
letters  to  Andrews  Norton,  which,  together, 
make  a  respectable  volume,  and  which  might 
easily  have  been  extended  without  change  of 
method.  The  training  of  Mr.  Ripley  was  in 
the  school  of  compression.  As  a  preacher,  his 
art  consisted  in  a  due  proportion  of  material  to 
space  ;  in  the  omission  of  details  and  the  pres 
entation  of  results  ;  in  a  skillful  process  of  sum 
marizing,  length  being  out  of  the  question,  and 
expansion  forbidden  by  the  first  conditions  of 
homiletics.  As  a  journalist,  he  was  held  to  the 
same  rigid  rules.  The  habit  of  saying  all  that 
was  necessary  in  two  or  three  columns  compelled 
him  to  select  salient  points,  to  employ  the  lan 
guage  of  suggestion  in  preference  to  the  lan 
guage  of  description,  to  bring  thoughts  to  a 
head,  to  pass  quickly  from  one  matter  to  an 
other,  to  dwell  on  no  subject  till  it  became  tire- 


294  GEORGE  RIFLE  7. 

some,  and  to  avoid  prolixity  as  the  unpardon 
able  sin.  By  the  practice  of  years  this  habit 
became  imperative.  To  break  through  it  was 
all  but  impossible.  At  all  events,  the  temp 
tation  to  break  through  it  lost  its  charm,  and 
the  idea  of  authorship  was  put  aside.  Force 
of  genius  might  burst  the  limits  of  such  re 
strictions  ;  love  of  money  or  of  fame  might  dis 
regard  them  ;  but  where  genius  is  quiescent, 
and  the  love  of  money  moderate,  and  the  pas 
sion  for  fame  cold,  the  law  of  repression  is  im 
perious,  and  the  mind  finds  absolute  content  in 
the  work  of  reporting  the  conclusions  of  more 
impulsive  intellects.  How  important  is  the  ser 
vice  rendered  by  minds  thus  constituted  few  can 
appreciate.  If  faithful  to  their  calling,  they 
may  raise  the  entire  level  of  literary  perform 
ance  ;  they  will  make  good  work,  and  only  good 
work,  possible  ;  they  will  put  carelessness  to 
shame.  This  was  the  crowning  achievement  of 
George  Ripley,  and  this  quality  in  his  work 
was  appreciated  by  fine  minds,  abroad  as  well 
as  at  home.  Professor  Tyndall,  for  instance, 
through  his  friend  E.  L.  Youmans,  in  1875,  sent 
his  "  special  regards "  to  Dr.  Riple}r,  saying, 
"  If  I  publish  another  edition  of  the  4  Address,' 
I  should  almost  like  to  preface  it  with  his  arti 
cle  on  Martineau.  He  writes,  as  he  has  ever 
written,  with  the  grasp  of  a  philosopher  and  the 
good  taste  of  a  gentleman." 


CHAPTER  IX. 

THE   END. 

GEOEGE  RIPLEY  inherited  a  robust  constitu 
tion.  His  brother  Franklin  lived  to  be  over 
seventy.  His  sister  Marianne  reached  about 
the  same  age.  George,  younger  than  either, 
lived  longer.  His  way  of  life,  though  labori 
ous,  was  even,  and,  with  the  exception  of  a  few 
years,  calm.  His  admirable  temper  threw  off 
the  enemies  of  health,  and  reduced  the  perils  of 
mental  and  moral  friction  to  their  smallest  di 
mensions.  His  habits  were  simple  to  the  verge 
of  abstemiousness.  Without  being  ascetic  in 
any  respect,  he  had  learned  how  many  good 
things  he  could  do  without,  and  be  no  worse  for 
the  abstinence.  His  routine  of  work  was  regu 
lar  ;  he  was  not  disabled  by  dyspepsia,  languor, 
headache,  or  heartache  ;  he  was  not  distracted 
by  the  vain  wish  to  be  somewhere  else,  or  to 
be  otherwise  employed.  To  the  wear  and  tear 
of  toil  he  was,  of  course,  exposed ;  but  the  wear 
and  tear  of  toil,  when  unaided  by  other  cor 
roding  causes,  seldom  fret  life  away.  He  was 
a  severe  worker,  not  counting  hours,  or  regard- 


296  GEORGE  RIPLET. 

ing  seasons,  or  taking  into  account  personal 
convenience ;  but  as  he  never  neglected  the 
rules  of  health,  he  did  not  suffer  from  excessive 
application.  He  enjoyed  his  sleep  and  ate  his 
dinner  without  fear.  In  his  early  life  he  was 
much  in  the  air,  took  long  walks,  reveled  in 
natural  influences.  At  Brook  Farm  his  exist 
ence  was  not  allowed  to  be  sedentary.  On  his 
removal  to  New  York  the  necessity  of  travers 
ing  considerable  distances  between  his  residence 
and  his  office  supplied  the  amount  of  exercise 
he  required.  He  never  rode  when  he  could 
walk.  Driving  was  no  recreation  to  him.  His 
satisfactions  were  mental.  In  his  later  years 
he  became  portly,  though  none  too  much  so  for 
his  appearance  or  comfort,  and  not  at  all  to  the 
diminution  of  his  power  of  work,  which  con 
tinued  unabated.  He  would  sit  all  day  at  his 
table,  reading  and  writing,  his  industry  never 
flagging,  his  spirits  never  drooping,  his  judg 
ment  never  clouded ;  glad  to  see  the  face  of  a 
friend,  and  overjoyed  at  the  pleasant  humor  of 
his  young  wife,  but  contented  if  left  alone, 
finding  the  necessary  sources  of  vitality  in  his 
own  healthy  nature.  His  faculties,  undisturbed 
by  the  moods  which  render  fitful  the  activities 
of  nervous  organizations,  played  with  absolute 
smoothness,  let  the  weather  be  what  it  might 
be.  A  constitutional  hilarity  preserved  him 


THE  END.  297 

from  despondency,  and  so  long  as  his  health  re 
mained  essentially  unimpaired  his  intellectual 
activity  went  on  with  the  evenness  of  mech 
anism. 

His  eye  was  fastened  on  one  weak  spot.  He 
dreaded  taking  cold.  His  influenzas  were  stub 
born  and  painful.  He  often  intimated  that  the 
source  of  danger  was  in  his  chest,  and  his 
knowledge  of  physiology  kept  that  danger  ever 
before  him.  Possibly,  his  precautions  were  ex 
cessive.  During  the  last  winter  preceding  his 
decease  he  did  not  leave  the  house,  but  sat  from 
morning  till  night  at  his  desk,  without  exercise, 
or  the  bracing  tonic  of  the  outer  air.  The 
world  came  to  him  in  the  persons  of  friends  and 
in  the  breezy  presence  of  his  wife,  who  kept 
him  informed  of  the  goings-on  of  the  social 
world.  For  years  it-  had  been  his  custom  to 
absent  himself  from  the  Tribune  Office,  and  to 
save  time  by  having  books  sent  to  him,  thus 
increasing  his  sedentary  habit.  Still  his  health 
did  not  suffer  apparently  from  the  confinement, 
though  occasionally  a  premonitory  symptom 
kept  him  in  mind  of  his  infirmity.  In  the  win 
ter  of  1879-80  painful  symptoms  alarmed  him; 
but  it  was  not  till  the  spring  was  far  advanced 
that  the  final  attack  was  made.  No  care  or  skill 
availed  then  to  beat  it  off.  It  soon  became  evi 
dent  that  he  must  succumb  to  the  enemy.  The 


298  GEORGE  RIFLE  Y. 

last  "  opinion  "  sent  to  the  Harpers  bears  the 
date  June  21,  1880,  —  the  subject  was  a  book 
entitled  "  The  Fierce  Spirit  of  Liberty,"  —  and 
the  latter  half  of  it  was  written  by  Mrs.  Ripley. 
The  list  printed  review,  that  of  Horace  Bush- 
nell's  Biography,  bears  date  June  18th.  That 
this  work  was  done  with  painful  effort  is  prob 
able  from  the  circumstance  that  the  last  article 
preserved  in  the  scrap-book,  where,  as  a  rule, 
his  papers  were  kept,  was  printed  June  5th. 
It  is  singular  that  the  subject  of  the  notice  was 
a  volume  called  "  New  England  Bygones." 
The  genial  spirit  of  the  man  enjoyed  the  theme, 
for  he  himself  was  of  New  England  stock  ;  the 
New  England  temper  animated  him  ;  even  the 
New  England  dishes  suited  his  palate ;  his 
memory  loved  to  haunt  the  scenes  of  Thanks 
giving  ;  he  was  proud  of  the  New  England  tra 
ditions  ;  something  of  New  England  austerity 
clung  to  his  morals  ;  the  New  England  u  en 
thusiasm  for  humanity  "  was  part  of  his  consti 
tution  ;  his  religion  preserved  the  New  England 
sobriety  and  earnestness,  though  the  theological 
intensity  was  lost.  He  could  feel  when  he 
could  no  longer  perceive.  The  grace  of  resigna 
tion  was  born  in  him,  and  when  the  time  came 
that  he  must  stop  doing  and  practice  patience 
he  was  ready. 

His  final  illness  was  protracted  and  painful. 


THE  END.  299 

An  incessant  restlessness  possessed  him ;  dis 
tress  for  breath  rendered  night  and  day  misera 
ble.  No  medical  skill,  no  loving  devotion,  gave 
relief.  In  the  moments  when  suffering  permit 
ted  he  was  fully  himself  ;  affectionate,  loyal  to 
the  best  faith  of  his  earlier  time,  glad  to  see  his 
friends,  more  than  glad  to  see  those  who  re 
vived  in  him  the  recollection  of  his  heroic  days. 
The  nature  of  his  disease  forbade  his  saying 
much ;  but  what  he  did  say  out  of  a  clear  mind 
was  quite  worthy  of  himself.  After  he  aban 
doned  the  religious  beliefs  of  his  youth  he  never 
returned  to  them,  never  deplored  their  absence, 
though  a  copy  of  the  hymns  of  Dr.  Watts  lay  on 
his  study  table  for  use.  He  loved  life,  but  had 
no  dread  of  death.  He  feared  pain,  but  knew 
how  to  bear  it.  He  clung  to  his  friends,  and  his 
friends  did  not  forsake  him.  He  depended  on 
the  care  of  his  wife,  and  it  was  lavished  on  him 
to  the  last.  In  his  closing  hours  he  called  for 
no  other  support  from  without.  He  died  on  the 
4th  of  July,  1880.  The  news  of  his  death 
reached  many  before  the  news  of  his  sickness, 
for  his  daily  existence  had  long  been  unevent 
ful,  and  only  those  nearest  to  him  were  at  all 
aware  of  his  condition.  The  distress  incidental 
to  a  recumbent  position  made  his  bed  unwel 
come.  Even  when  mortally  ill  he  preferred  a 
sitting  posture ;  and  this  conveyed  an  idea  that 


300  GEORGE  RIPLET. 

he  was  stronger  than  he  really  was.  He  died 
in  his  writing-room,  in  his  chair,  —  at  his  post 
of  duty  to  the  very  end. 

Though  his  position  in  the  world  of  litera 
ture  had  long  been  acknowledged,  his  decease 
brought  it  freshly  to  men's  minds.  From  one 
end  of  the  country  to  the  other  the  tributes  to 
his  enlightened  capacity,  to  his  distinguished 
knowledge,  to  his  eminent  skill  as  a  discerner 
of  thoughts,  came  in.  Editors,  writers  of  every 
class,  critics  of  diverse  schools,  confessed  his 
power,  and  celebrated  the  service  he  had  ren 
dered  to  American  literature.  There  was  no 
dissentient  voice.  His  was  felt  to  be  a  general 
loss.  In  the  absence  of  his  own  pastor  (the  son 
of  a  cordial  friend  of  his  youth)  a  comparative 
stranger  spoke  the  last  words  at  his  funeral, 
making  amends  for  lack  of  intimacy  by  warmth 
of  expression  ;  thus  doing  justice  to  one  aspect 
of  him  which  was  little  understood,  the  hearty 
human  sympathy  there  was  in  him. 

A  great  concourse  of  people  attended  the  ob 
sequies.  Distinguished  men,  divines,  critics, 
scholars,  editors,  architects,  scientists,  journal 
ists,  publicists,  men  of  affairs,  artists,  were  in 
the  assembly.  The  pall-bearers  were  the  Pres 
ident  of  Columbia  College;  the  Editor  of  "  Har 
per's  Weekly ;  "  the  representative  of  the  great 
publishing  house  he  had  served  so  many  years 


THE  END.  301 

an  Italian  professor  and  man  of  letters ;  the 
Editor  of  "  The  Popular  Science  Monthly  ;  " 
the  Editor  of  "  The  New  York  Observer ; "  a 
distinguished  college  professor  ;  an  eminent  Ger 
man  lawyer  ;  a  popular  poet ;  and  the  Editor  of 
"  The  Tribune,"  whose  cordial,  faithful  friend 
he  had  ever  been.  These  nobly  represented  the 
many-sided  sympathies  and  universal  relations 
of  the  man.  They  were  at  once  personal  inti 
mates,  professional  allies,  and  intellectual  neigh 
bors  ;  uniting  love  for  the  individual  with  admi 
ration  for  the  writer.  If  George  Bancroft  and 
Parke  Godwin  had  been  present,  not  as  distin 
guished  men  of  letters,  but  as  old  comrades,  — 
the  former  a  close  temporal  and  spiritual  friend, 
the  latter  a  brother  in  the  early  projects  for 
an  associated  humanity,  —  the  representation 
would  have  been  perfect :  a  Unitarian  minister 
officiating,  organized  humanity  paying  its  trib 
ute,  the  broad  spirit  of  modern  literature  offer 
ing  its  praise,  private  affection  revealing  its 
sense  of  bereavement.  He  was  buried  at  Wood- 
lawn  Cemetery,  in  New  York,  where  a  granite 
monument  marks  his  resting  place. 

Rev.  William  Henry  Channing,  of  London, 
an  old  comrade  and  intimate  friend  of  George 
Ripley,  would  have  prepared  for  this  memoir  a 
full  report  of  his  life  and  a  judgment  of  his 
character,  had  pressing  engagements  permitted. 


302 

Circumstances  forbade  his  doing  more  than 
write  a  regretful  letter,  an  extract  wherefrom 
will  indicate  the  spirit  in  which  the  tribute 
would  have  been  offered.  It  is  hardly  neces 
sary  to  add  that  all  who  knew  well  the  subject 
of  this  biography  will  render  the  same  testi 
mony  to  a  man  they  loved  as  cordially  as  they 
admired  him. 

CAMPDEN  HOUSE  ROAD,  KENSINGTON,  LONDON, 

Monday,  April  7,  1882. 

Your  disappointment  cannot  at  all  equal  mine,  at 
my  inability  to  send  the  promised  sketch  of  our  hon 
ored  compeer,  George  Ripley.  But  the  ever-widen 
ing  claims  of  reform  movements,  committees,  corre 
spondence,  etc.,  etc.,  have  prevented  during  the  whole 
season  ;  and  when,  at  last,  a  period  of  leisure  came, 
my  health  again  broke  down,  compelling  rest. 

The  more  the  subject  has  been  thought  over,  and 
long-buried  memories  of  our  dear  friend  reappear, 
the  wider  and  richer  the  theme  opens.  And  it 
would  need  many  pages  to  present  the  least  ade 
quate  portraits  of  George  Ilipley  as  a  Christian  min 
ister,  a  scholar,  an  expounder  of  philosophy,  a  so 
cial  reorganizer,  a  literary  critic,  an  encyclopaedist, 
a  friend,  and  a  man.  To  me,  in  reviewing  his  di 
versified,  yet  consistent,  progressive,  and  ascending 
career,  he  takes  a  front  rank  among  the  many  leaders 
of  thought  whom  it  has  been  my  rare  privilege  to 
know,  in  our  own  republic  and  in  Europe. 

Especially  would  it  gratify  me  to  bear  my  testi- 


THE  END.  303 

mony  to  the  generous  and  quite  heroic  spirit,  where 
by  he  and  his  great-souled  wife  were  impelled  to 
organize  Brook  Farm  ;  and  to  the  wise  sagacity,  ge 
nial  good-heartedness,  friendly  sympathy,  patience, 
persistency,  and  ideal  hopefulness  with  which  they 
energetically  helped  to  carry  out  that  romantic  enter 
prise  to  the  end.  They  consulted  with  me  from  first 
to  last,  and  opened  their  confidence  as  they  did  to 
very  few ;  for  they  knew  how  warmly  and  uncompro 
misingly  my  conscience,  judgment,  enthusiastic  antic 
ipations  of  a  purer,  freer,  more  beautifully  ordered, 
and  deeply  religious  form  of  society,  responded  to 
their  own.  For  years  my  reiterated  and  urgent  en 
treaty  was  that  he  should  write  out  his  "  Record  "  of 
that  brave  experiment,  but  he  constantly  refused. 
And  to  my  last  appeal,  made  during  an  interview, 
in  the  summer  of  1880,  our  final  meeting  here  be 
low,  in  answer  to  the  question,  "  When  will  you  tell 
that  story,  as  you  alone  can  tell  it?"  he  replied,  with 
eyes  twinkling  merrily  and  his  rotund  form  shaking 
with  laughter,  "Whenever  I  reach  my  years  of  in 
discretion  !  "  And  at  the  close  of  our  prolonged  talk 
he  looked  at  me  affectionately,  and  said,  "  But  for 
your  uncle  William's  encouragement  I  never  should 
have  undertaken  Brook  Farm  ;  and  but  for  your  un 
wavering  good-cheer  I  never  should  have  carried  on 
the  attempt  so  long." 

It  is  not  claimed  that  George  Ripley  was  a 
man  of  genius,  the  peer  of  Irving,  Prescott, 
Motley,  Bancroft,  Bryant,  Emerson,  Charming, 


304  GEORGE  RIP  LEY. 

or  any  of  the  men  who  have  made  the  age  illus 
trious  at  home  or  abroad.  It  is  not  claimed 
that  he  was  a  profound  scholar,  an  original 
thinker,  even  in  his  favorite  department  of  phi 
losophy,  nor  yet  an  accomplished  man,  in  the 
usual  sense  of  the  word.  But  it  is  claimed  that 
he  possessed  the  literary  spirit  in  a  remarkable 
degree ;  that  his  mind  was  singularly  calm, 
even,  capacious,  and  exact ;  that  he  was  a  man 
of  rare  intelligence  and  master  of  a  pure  style 
of  English.  It  is  claimed  that  he  put  his  whole 
life  into  the  work  of  interpreting  ideas  to  IIHMI, 
infusing  into  letters  the  earnestness  and  the 
sweetness  of  character.  It  is  claimed  that  with 
him  literature  was  a  high  calling,  on  a  line  with 
the  ministry,  which  he  abandoned,  or  the  career 
of  a  reformer,  which  he  undertook  at  Brook 
Farm.  One  spirit  animated  all  his  performance 
from  beginning  to  end.  The  forms  of  his  ac 
tivity  changed  ;  his  hope  and  purpose  continued 
unfaltering  to  the  last.  Whether  preaching, 
administering,  writing,  making  a  Cyclopaedia, 
or  reviewing  books,  he  had  one  end  in  view,  — 
the  enlightenment  and  elevation  of  mankind. 

Sou  they 's  fine  lines,  applied  to  Sir  William 
Hamilton  in  his  library,  found  among  George 
llipley's  papers,  in  his  own  handwriting,  partly 
express  the  man  :  — 


THE  END.  305 

My  days  among  the  dead  are  past ; 

Around  me  I  behold, 
Where'er  these  casual  eyes  are  cast, 

The  mighty  minds  of  old. 
My  never-failing  friends  are  they 
With  whom  I  converse  day  by  day. 

My  hopes  are  with  the  dead ;   anon 

My  place  with  them  will  be, 
And  I  with  them  shall  travel  on 

Through  all  futurity ; 
Yet  leaving  here  a  name,  I  trust, 
That  will  not  perish  in  the  dust. 

In  his  old  college  Commonplace  Book,  under 
date  December  5,  1825,  he  wrote  an  extract 
and  comment  as  follows:  "1A  morning  of  ardor 
and  of  hope ;  a  day  of  clouds  and  storms  ;  an 
evening  of  gloom  closed  in  by  premature  dark 
ness  :  such  is  the  melancholy  sum  of  what  the 
biography  of  Men  of  Letters  almost  uniformly 
presents.'  Is  this  true  ?  " 


APPENDIX. 


THE  following  letters,  which  came  too  late  to  be  in 
serted  in  the  proper  place,  are  interesting  as  throw 
ing  light  on  Mr.  Ripley's  purposes,  and  as  showing 
how  his  scheme  was  regarded  by  a  sympathetic  and 
singularly  discerning  mind.  Mr.  Emerson's  attitude 
towards  Brook  Farm  illustrates  well  his  peculiar 
genius  :  — 

BOSTON,  November  9,  1840. 

MY  DEAR  SIR,  —  Our  conversation  in  Concord 
was  of  such  a  general  nature,  that  I  do  not  feel  as  if 
you  were  in  complete  possession  of  the  idea  of  the 
Association  which  I  wish  to  see  established.  As 
we  have  now  a  prospect  of  carrying  it  into  effect, 
at  an  early  period,  I  wish  to  submit  the  plan  more 
distinctly  to  your  judgment,  that  you  may  decide 
whether  it  is  one  that  can  have  the  benefit  of  your 
aid  and  cooperation. 

Our  objects,  as  you  know,  are  to  insure  a  more 
natural  union  between  intellectual  and  manual  labor 
than  now  exists  ;  to  combine  the  thinker  and  the 
worker,  as  far  as  possible,  in  the  same  individual ;  to 
guarantee  the  highest  mental  freedom,  by  providing 
all  with  labor,  adapted  to  their  tastes  and  talents,  and 


308  APPENDIX. 

securing  to  them  the  fruits  of  their  industry ;  to  do 
away  the  necessity  of  menial  services,  by  opening  the 
benefits  of  education  and  the  profits  of  labor  to  all ; 
and  thus  to  prepare  a  society  of  liberal,  intelligent, 
and  cultivated  persons,  whose  relations  with  each 
other  would  permit  a  more  simple  and  wholesome 
life,  than  can  be  led  amidst  the  pressure  of  our  com 
petitive  institutions. 

To  accomplish  these  objects,  we  propose  to  take  a 
small  tract  of  land,  which,  under  skillful  husbandry, 
uniting  the  garden  and  the  farm,  will  be  adequate  to 
the  subsistence  of  the  families  ;  and  to  connect  with 
this  a  school  or  college,  in  which  the  most  complete 
instruction  shall  be  given,  from  the  first  rudiments  to 
the  highest  culture.  Our  farm  would  be  a  place  for 
improving  the  race  of  men  that  lived  on  it ;  thought 
would  preside  over  the  operations  of  labor,  and  labor 
would  contribute  to  the  expansion  of  thought ;  we 
should  have  industry  without  drudgery,  and  true 
equality  without  its  vulgarity. 

An  offer  has  been  made  to  us  of  a  beautiful  estate, 
on  very  reasonable  terms,  on  the  borders  of  Newton, 
West  Roxbury,  and  Dedham.  I  am  very  familiar 
with  the  premises,  having  resided  on  them  a  part  of 
last  summer,  and  we  might  search  the  country  in  vain 
for  anything  more  eligible.  Our  proposal  now  is  for 
three  or  four  families  to  take  possession  on  the  first 
of  April  next,  to  attend  to  the  cultivation  of  the  farm 
and  the  erection  of  buildings,  to  prepare  for  the  com- 
•ng  of  as  many  more  in  the  autumn,  and  thus  to  com 
mence  the  institution  in  the  simplest  manner,  and 


APPENDIX.  309 

with  the  smallest  number,  with  which  it  can  go  into 
operation  at  all.  It  would  thus  be  not  less  than  two 
or  three  years,  before  we  should  be  joined  by  all  who 
mean  to  be  with  us  ;  we  should  not  fall  to  pieces  by 
our  own  weight ;  we  should  grow  up  slowly  and 
strong ;  and  the  attractiveness  of  our  experiment 
would  win  to  us  all  whose  society  we  should  want. 

The  step  now  to  be  taken  at  once  is  the  procuring 
of  funds  for  the  necessary  capital.  According  to  the 
present  modification  of  our  plan,  a  much  less  sum  will 
be  required  than  that  spoken  of  in  our  discussions 
at  Concord.  We  thought  then  $50,000  would  be 
needed  ;  I  find  now,  after  a  careful  estimate,  that 
$30,000  will  purchase  the  estate  and  buildings  for 
ten  families,  and  give  the  required  surplus  for  carry 
ing  on  the  operations  for  one  year. 

We  propose  to  raise  this  sum  by  a  subscription  to 
a  joint  stock  company,  among  the  friends  of  the  in 
stitution,  the  payment  of  a  fixed  interest  being  guar 
anteed  to  the  subscribers,  and  the  subscription  itself 
secured  by  the  real  estate.  No  man  then  will  be  in 
danger  of  losing  ;  he  will  receive  as  fair  an  interest 
as  he  would  from  any  investment,  while  at  the  same 
time  he  is  contributing  towards  an  institution,  in 
which  while  the  true  use  of  money  is  retained,  its 
abuses  are  done  away.  The  sum  required  cannot 
come  from  rich  capitalists ;  their  instinct  would  pro 
test  against  such  an  application  of  their  coins ;  it 
must  be  obtained  from  those  who  sympathize  with 
our  ideas,  and  who  are  willing  to  aid  their  realization 
with  their  money,  if  not  by  their  personal  coopera- 


310  APPENDIX. 

tion.  There  are  some  of  this  description  on  whom  I 
think  we  can  rely ;  among  ourselves  we  can  produce 
perhaps  $10,000  ;  the  remainder  must  be  subscribed 
for  by  those  who  wish  us  well,  whether  they  mean  to 
unite  with  us  or  not. 

I  ciui  imagine  no  plan  which  is  suited  to  carry  into 
effect  so  many  divine  ideas  as  this.  If  wisely  exe 
cuted,  it  will  be  a  light  over  this  country  and  this  age. 
If  not  the  sunrise,  it  will  be  the  morning  star.  As  a 
practical  man,  I  see  clearly  that  we  must  have  some 
such  arrangement,  or  all  changes  less  radical  will  be 
nugatory.  I  believe  in  the  divinity  of  labor ;  I  wish 
to  "  harvest  my  flesh  and  blood  from  the  land  ;  "  but 
to  do  this,  I  must  either  be  insulated  and  work  to 
disadvantage,  or  avail  myself  of  the  services  of  hire 
lings,  who  are  not  of  my  order,  and  whom  I  can 
scarce  make  friends ;  for  I  must  have  another  to 
drive  the  plough,  which  I  hold.  I  cannot  empty  a 
cask  of  lime  upon  my  grass  alone.  I  wish  to  see  a 
society  of  educated  friends,  working,  thinking,  and 
living  together,  with  no  strife,  except  that  of  each  to 
contribute  the  most  to  the  benefit  of  all. 

Personally,  my  tastes  and  habits  would  lead  me  in 
another  direction.  I  have  a  passion  for  being  inde 
pendent  of  the  world,  and  of  every  man  in  it.  This 
I  could  do  easily  on  the  estate  which  is  now  offered, 
and  which  I  could  rent  at  a  rate,  that  with  my  other 
resources,  would  place  me  in  a  very  agreeable  condi 
tion,  as  far  as  my  personal  interests  were  involved. 
I  should  have  a  city  of  God,  on  a  small  scale  of  my 
own;  and  please  God,  I  should  hope  one  day  to 


APPENDIX.  311 

drive  my  own  cart  to  market  and  sell  greens.  But  I 
feel  bound  to  sacrifice  this  private  feeling,  in  the  hope 
of  a  great  social  good.  I  shall  be  anxious  to  hear 
from  you.  Your  decision  will  do  much  towards  set 
tling  the  question  with  me,  whether  the  time  has 
come  for  the  fulfillment  of  a  high  hope,  or  whether 
the  work  belongs  to  a  future  generation.  All  omens 
now  are  favorable  ;  a  singular  union  of  diverse  tal 
ents  is  ready  for  the  enterprise ;  everything  indicates 
that  we  ought  to  arise  and  build  ;  and  if  we  let  slip 
this  occasion,  the  unsleeping  Nemesis  will  deprive  us 
of  the  boon  we  seek.  For  myself,  I  am  sure  that  I 
can  never  give  so  much  thought  to  it  again  ;  my 
mind  must  act  on  other  objects,  and  I  shall  acquiesce 
in  the  course  of  fate,  with  grief  that  so  fair  a  light  is 
put  out.  A  small  pittance  of  the  wealth  which  has 
been  thrown  away  on  ignoble  objects,  during  this  wild 
contest  for  political  supremacy,  would  lay  the  corner 
stone  of  a  house,  which  would  ere  long  become  the 
desire  of  nations. 

I  almost  forgot  to  say  that  our  friends,  the  "  Prac 
tical  Christians,"  insist  on  making  their  "  Standard," 
—  a  written  document,  —  a  prescribed  test.  This 
cuts  them  off.  Perhaps  we  are  better  without  them. 
They  are  good  men ;  they  have  salt,  which  we 
needed  with  our  spice ;  but  we  might  have  proved 
too  liberal,  too  comprehensive,  too  much  attached  to 
the  graces  of  culture,  to  suit  their  ideas.  Instead  of 
them,  we  have  the  offer  of  ten  or  twelve  "  Practical 
Men,"  from  Mr.  S.  G.  May,  who  himself  is  deeply  in 
terested  in  the  proposal,  and  would  like  one  day  to 


312  APPENDIX. 

share  in  its  concerns.  Pray  write  me  with  as  much 
frankness  as  I  have  used  towards  you,  and  believe  me 
ever  your  friend  and  faithful  servant, 

GEORGE  RIPLEY. 

P.  S.  I  ought  to  add,  that  in  the  present  stage 
of  the  enterprise  no  proposal  is  considered  as  binding. 
We  wish  only  to  know  what  can  probably  be  relied 
on,  provided  always,  that  no  pledge  will  be  accepted 
until  the  articles  of  association  are  agreed  on  by  all 
parties. 

I  recollect  you  said  that  if  you  were  sure  of  com 
peers  of  the  right  stamp  you  might  embark  yourself 
in  the  adventure  :  as  to  this,  let  me  suggest  the  in 
quiry,  whether  our  Association  should  not  be  com 
posed  of  various  classes  of  men  ?  If  we  have  friends 
whom  we  love  and  who  love  us,  I  think  we  should  be 
content  to  join  with  others,  with  whom  our  personal 
sympathy  is  not  strong,  but  whose  general  ideas  co 
incide  with  ours,  and  whose  gifts  and  abilities  would 
make  their  services  important.  For  instance,  I 
should  like  to  have  a  good  washerwoman  in  my  par 
ish  admitted  into  the  plot.  She  is  certainly  not  a 
Minerva  or  a  Venus  ;  but  we  might  educate  her  two 
children  to  wisdom  and  varied  accomplishments,  who 
otherwise  will  be  doomed  to  drudge  through  life. 
The  same  is  true  of  some  farmers  and  mechanics, 
whom  we  should  like  with  us. 

BROOK  FARM,  December  17,  1841. 

Mr  DEAR  SIR,  —  I  feel  so  sure  of  your  sympathy 
in  the  ideas  which  our  little  company  are  trying  to 


APPENDIX.  313 

illustrate,  that  I  do  not  hesitate  to  bespeak  your  at 
tention  to  our  prospects. 

We  are  now  in  full  operation  as  a  family  of  work 
ers,  teachers,  and  students  ;  we  feel  the  deepest  in 
ward  convictions  that  for  us  our  mode  of  life  is  the 
true  one,  and  no  attraction  would  tempt  any  one  of 
us  to  exchange  it  for  that  which  we  have  quitted 
lately.  A  rare  Providence  seems  to  have  smiled  on 
us  in  the  materials  which  have  been  drawn  together 
on  this  spot ;  and  so  many  powers  are  at  work  with 
us  and  for  us,  that  I  cannot  doubt  we  are  destined  to 
succeed  in  giving  visible  expression  to  some  of  the 
laws  of  social  life,  that  as  yet  have  been  kept  in  the 
background. 

We  are  all  of  us  here  full  of  joy  and  hope ;  we 
have  overcome  great  obstacles ;  our  foundation,  I 
trust,  is  wisely  laid.  We  seem  to  have  every  ele 
ment  of  success,  except  the  hindrances  that  arise 
from  our  poverty.  Some  of  our  friends  have  put  us 
in  possession  of  the  means  of  owning  the  estate  we 
live  on  ;  and  our  personal  resources  are  sufficient, 
when  available,  for  the  immediate  improvements  we 
contemplate.  Still,  without  larger  means  than  are 
now  at  our  command,  we  must  labor  to  great  disad 
vantage,  and  perhaps  retard  and  seriously  injure  our 
enterprise.  Our  farming,  in  a  pecuniary  view,  has 
been  successful.  It  has  realized  ten  per  cent,  net 
gain  on  the  value  of  the  estate,  which  I  believe  is  Mr. 
Phinney's  mark ;  and  our  income  is  somewhat  more 
than  our  current  expenses.  But  we  are  called  on  for 
outlays,  for  absolutely  necessary  accommodations, 


314  APPENDIX. 

which,  though  conducted  with  a  Spartan  economy, 
exhaust  our  available  funds,  and  leave  us  too  re 
stricted  for  successful  operation. 

Our  resource,  in  this  case,  is  to  request  some  of 
those  who  have  faith  in  us  and  in  our  enterprise,  not 
to  endow  us,  or  to  portion  us,  but  to  invest  in  our 
stock  such  sums  as  they  can  temporarily  part  with, 
and  receive  therefor  a  just  equivalent.  Our  shares 
are  $500  each ;  they  are  guaranteed  five  per  cent,  in 
terest,  and  may  be  withdrawn  at  the  pleasure  of  the 
subscribers,  on  giving  three  months'  notice.  I  have 
no  doubt  that  an  investment  would  be  equally  safe,  if 
not  equally  lucrative,  as  in  any  joint-stock  company 
in  the  Commonwealth,  besides  essentially  aiding  in 
the  establishment  of  an  institution,  which  is  believed 
to  contain  the  seeds  of  future  good  to  men. 

If  my  confessions  should  prompt  you  to  seek  the 
ownership  of  one  or  more  of  our  shares,  I  need  not 
say  that  we  should  be  gratified  and  greatly  forwarded 
in  this  the  time  of  our  infant  struggle  and  hope  ;  but 
if  you  have  any  cause  to  do  otherwise,  I  am  sure  that 
you  will  be  no  less  frank  than  I  have  been,  and  re 
gard  this  request  as  if  it  had  never  been  made. 

Your  young  friend  Frank  Brown  is  very  well  and 
I  hope  will  do  well.  Ever  yours  sincerely, 

GEORGE  RIPLET. 

Mr.  Emerson's  reply  is  without  date,  and  is  ap 
parently  an  unfinished  sketch  :  — 

MY  DEAR  SIR,  —  It  is  quite  time  I  made  an  an 
swer  to  your  proposition  that  I  should  venture  into 


APPENDIX.  315 

your  new  community.  The  design  appears  to  me 
noble  and  generous,  proceeding,  as  I  plainly  see, 
from  nothing  covert,  or  selfish,  or  ambitious,  but 
from  a  manly  and  expanding  heart  and  mind.  So  it 
makes  all  men  its  friends  and  debtors.  It  becomes 
a  matter  of  conscience  to  entertain  it  in  a  friendly 
spirit,  and  examine  what  it  has  for  us. 

I  have  decided  not  to  join  it,  and  yet  very  slowly 
and  I  may  almost  say  with  penitence.  I  am  greatly 
relieved  by  learning  that  your  coadjutors  are  now 
so  many  that  you  will  no  longer  attach  that  impor 
tance  to  the  defection  of  individuals  which,  you  hinted 
in  your  letter  to  me,  I  or  others  might  possess,  —  the 
painful  power  I  mean  of  preventing  the  execution  of 
the  plan. 

My  feeling  is  that  the  community  is  not  good  for 
me,  that  it  has  little  to  offer  me,  which,  with  resolu 
tion  I  cannot  procure  for  myself ;  that  it  would  not 
be  worth  my  while  to  make  the  difficult  exchange  of 
my  property  in  Concord  for  a  share  in  the  new  house 
hold.  I  am  in  many  respects  placed  as  I  wish  to  be, 
in  an  agreeable  neighborhood,  in  a  town  which  I  have 
some  reason  to  love,  and  which  has  respected  my 
freedom  so  far  that  I  have  reason  to  hope  it  will  in 
dulge  me  further  when  I  demand  it.  I  cannot  ac 
cuse  iny  townsmen  or  my  neighbors  of  my  domestic 
grievances,  only  my  own  sloth  and  conformity.  It 
seems  to  me  a  circuitous  and  operose  way  of  reliev 
ing  myself  to  put  upon  your  community  the  emanci 
pation  which  I  ought  to  take  on  myself.  I  must  as- 
Bume  my  own  vows. 


316  APPENDIX. 

The  institution  of  domestic  hired  service  is  to  me 
very  disagreeable.  I  should  like  to  come  one  step 
nearer  to  nature  than  this  usage  permits.  But  surely 
I  need  not  sell  my  house  and  remove  my  family  to 
Newton  in  order  to  make  the  experiment  of  labor  and 
self  help.  I  am  already  in  the  act  of  trying  some 
domestic  and  social  experiments  which  would  gain 
nothing. 

I  ought  to  say  that  I  do  not  put  much  trust  in  any 
arrangements  or  combinations,  only  in  the  spirit 
which  dictates  them.  Is  that  benevolent  and  divine, 
they  will  answer  their  end.  Is  there  any  alloy  in 
that,  it  will  certainly  appear  in  the  result. 

I  have  the  same  answer  to  make  to  the  proposition 
of  the  school.  According  to  my  ability  and  accord 
ing  to  your's,  you  and  I  do  now  keep  school  for  all 
comers,  and  the  energy  of  our  thought  and  of  our  will 
measures  our  influence. 

I  do  not  think  I  should  gain  anything,  I,  who  have 
little  skill  to  converse  with  people,  by  a  plan  of  so 
many  parts,  and  which  I  comprehend  so  slowly  and 
bluntly. 

I  almost  shudder  to  make  any  statement  of  my  ob 
jections  to  our  ways  of  living,  because  I  see  how 
slowly  I  shall  mend  them.  My  own  health  and  hab 
its  of  living  and  those  of  my  wife  and  my  mother  are 
not  of  that  robustness  that  should  give  any  pledge  of 
enterprise  and  ability  in  reform.  Nor  can  I  insist 
with  any  heat  on  new  methods  when  I  am  at  work 
m  my  study  on  any  literary  composition.  Yet  I 
think  that  all  I  shall  solidly  do,  I  must  do  alone,  and 


APPENDIX.  317 

I  am  so  ignorant  and  uncertain  in  my  improvements 
that  I  would  fain  hide  my  attempts  and  failures  in 
solitude  where  they  shall  perplex  none  or  very  few 
beside  myself.  The  result  of  our  secretest  attempts 
will  certainly  have  as  much  renown  as  shall  be  due 
to  it. 

I  do  not  look  on  myself  as  a  valuable  member  to 
any  community  which  is  not  either  very  large  or  very 
small  and  select.  I  fear  that  your's  would  not  find 
me  as  profitable  and  pleasant  an  associate  as  I  should 
wish  to  be,  and  as  so  important  a  project  seems  im 
peratively  to  require  in  all  its  constituents. 

Mr.  Edmund  Hosmer,  a  very  intelligent  farmer 
and  a  very  upright  man  in  my  neighborhood,  to  whom 
I  read  your  letter,  admired  the  spirit  of  the  plan  but 
distrusted  all  I  told  him  of  the  details  as  far  as  they 
concerned  the  farm. 

1.  He  said,  as  a  general  rule  nothing  was  gained 
by  cooperation  in  a  farm,  except  in  those  few  pieces 
of  work  which  cannot  be  done  alone,  like  getting  in 
a  load  of   hay,  which  takes   three  men.     In   every 
other  case,  it  is  better  to  separate  the  workmen.    His 
own  boys  (all  good  boys)  work  better  separately  than 
with  him. 

2.  He  thought  Mr.  Hipley  should  put  no  depend 
ence  on  the  results  of  gentlemen  farmers  such  as  Mr. 

P and   others  who  were   named.     If   his  (Mr. 

Hosmer's)    farm  had  been  managed  in  the  way  of 

Mr.  P 's,  it  would  have  put  himself  and  family 

in  the  poor-house  long  ago.     If  Mr.  P 's  farm 

should  be  exhibited  in  an  accurate  account  of  debt 


318  APPENDIX. 

and  credit  from  his  beginning  until  now,  it  would 
probably  show  a  great  deficit.  Another  considera 
tion  :  The  gentlemen  farmers  are  obliged  to  conduct 
their  operations  by  means  of  a  foreman  whom  they 
choose  because  he  has  skill  to  make  ends  meet,  and 
sell  the  produce  without  any  scrupulous  inquiry  on 
the  part  of  the  employer  as  to  his  methods.  That 
foreman  buys  cheap  and  sells  dear,  in  a  manner 
which  Mr.  Ripley  and  his  coadjutors  will  not  sanc 
tion.  The  same  thing  is  true  of  many  farmers, 
whose  praise  is  in  the  agricultural  reports.  If  they 
were  honest  there  would  be  no  brilliant  results.  And 
Mr.  Hosmer  is  sure  that  no  large  property  can  ever 
be  made  by  honest  farming. 

3.  Mr.  Hosmer  thinks  the  equal  payment  of  ten 
cents  per  hour  to  every  laborer  unjust.     One  man 
brings  capital  to  the  community  and  receives  his  in 
terest.     He  has  little  skill  to  labor.     A  farmer  also 
comes  who  has  no  capital  but  can  do  twice  as  much 
as  Mr.  Hosmer  in  a  day.     His  skill  is  his  capital. 
It  would  be  unjust  to  pay  him  no  interest  on  that. 

4.  Mr.    Hosmer  disbelieves    that   good  work  will 
continue  to  be  done  for  the  community  if  the  worker 
is  not  directly  benefited.     His  boys  receive  a  cent  a 
basket  for  the  potatoes  they  bring  in,  and  that  makes 
them  work,  though    they  know  very  well  that  the 
whole  produce  of  the  farm  is  for  them. 


INDEX. 


ALCOTT,  A.  B.,  54, 129 
Alps,  246,  248. 
American  Literature,  213. 
Andover  Theological  Seminary,  18. 
Arnold,  Edwin,  227. 
Arnold,  M.,  285. 

"  Atlantic  Monthly  "  (Magazine), 
150  j 151. 

BADEN-BADEN,  258,  262. 

Bancroft,  George,  212,  262,  282, 301. 

Barrett,  Samuel,  41. 

Bartol,  C.  A.,  54. 

Blanc,  Louis,  260. 

Books  vs.  Barbarism,  274. 

Boston,  Mem.  History  of,  281. 

Bradford,  George  P. ,  127. 

Brisbane,  Albert,  175,  176,  181. 

Brook  Farm,  Antecedents,  109; 
articles  of  association,  112 ;  offi 
cers,  115  :  site,  117  ;  theory,  118  ; 
spiritof,  119-122,  3Q3T  'account  of 
ffi"  Dial  "  122  ;  0.  A. BlownsorTs 
faccount  oi'Li21 ;  teaching  at,  127  ; 
wjjrk,  128  ;  "School.  128  ;  numbers, 
128, 156 ;  music,  129 ;  visitors,  129  ; 
applications,  130  ;  amusements, 
149  ;  manners,  150 ;  literature  of, 

152  ;    G.   A.   Dana's  account  of, 

153  ;  reminiscences  of,  154  ;  daily 
life,  155  ;    trades,  157  ;    finances, 
157,  183 ;    Fourierism    167,  175  ; 
causes  of  failure,  187, 194. 

Brooks,  C.  T.,  97. 
Brown,  Solyman,  175. 
Brownson,  0.  A..  54, 120,  129. 
Bryant,  W.  C.,  280. 
Buchner's  "  Man,"  230. 
Buckminster,  Rev.  Mr.,  28,  274. 
Buddha,  Gautama,  227. 

CABOT,  J.  E.,  281. 
Carlyle,  T.  (quoted),  290. 


Channing,  W.  E.,  13,  28,  31,41,  42. 

51,  110,  118,  232,  282,  302. 
Channing,  W.  II. ,  97,  129,  154, 166, 

175, 177,  301. 
Clarke,  J.  F.,  54,  97. 
Codman,  J.  T.,  151. 
Coolidge,  J.  I.  T.,  92. 
Council,  (Ecumenical,  264. 
Cowper,  William,  12. 
Cranch,  C.  P.,  129,  176,  177. 
Criticism  in  America,  290. 
Curtis,  G.  W.,  176,  177 
Cyclopaedia,  218-223. 

DANA,  C.  A.,  115, 127, 153, 154,  164 

173;  175, 176, 177, 178.   ' 
Dewey,  Orville,  96. 
De  Wette,  98,  102. 
"  Dial,  The,"  105,  106, 122, 167. 
"Disciple,  Christian,  The,"  13,  27, 

28. 

Dorr,  Thomas,  10,  19. 
Dwight,  J.  S.,  53,  97,  127, 177. 

ELLIS,  G.  E.,  56. 

Emerson,  R.  W.,  54,  56,  58,  98,  129, 

257,  266,  et  seq. 
Emerson,  William,  20. 
Everett,  Edward,  9. 
"Examiner,  Christian,  The,'-  94. 

FELTON,  C.  C.,  97. 
Feuerbach,  229. 
Fichte,  J.  G.,  96. 
Florence,  263. 

Fourier,  Charles,  167, 174, 181. 
Francis,  Convers,  54. 
Frothingham,  N.  L.,  41. 
Fuller,  Margaret,  54,  97, 129. 

GANNETT,  E.  S.,  3,  28,  38,  41. 
Godwin,  Parke,  174,  175\  176,  177. 


820 


INDEX. 


Qreeley,  Horace,  175,  176,  212,  214, 

Greenfield,  2,  3,  7, 13,  26,  238,  240, 

245,  252. 
Greenwood,  F.  W.  P.,  41 

11  HARBINGER,  THE,"  176,  177,  186, 

195. 

Harpers,  298. 

"  Harper's  Monthly  Magazine,"  215. 
Harvard  College,  5,  7,  8,  10,  11. 
Hawthorne,  N.,  115, 149,  153. 
Hedge,  F.  II.,  54,  96,  281. 
Heine,  U.  213. 
Higginson,  T.  W..  176, 177. 
Holmes,  0.  W.,  280. 
Homer,  Mr.  and  Mrs.,  252,  255 
Hosmer,  U.  W.,92. 
Humboldt  Festival,  262. 

"  INDEPENDENT,  THE,"  255. 
Infidelity,  latest  form  of,  98. 
Institute,  National,  the,  273. 

JEWS  at  Rome,  265. 
Jowett,  Benjamin,  259 

KANT,  IMMAXUEL,  96 
Kay,  A.,  I'.U. 
Kimball,252,  257. 
Kirkland,  Samuel,  38. 

LEWES,  0.  H.,  287. 

Liberal    Christianity  in   the   West, 

252,254. 

Literature,  American,  213. 
"  Literature  and  Dogma,"  285. 
Livermore,  A.  A.,  96. 
Locke,  John,  13. 
London, 260. 
Lowell,  Charles,  38.  41. 
Lowell,  J.R.,  176,  177. 
Lunt,  W.  P.,  19. 

MAGAZINE,  291. 
Mallork,  W.  U.,  227,  230. 
Martjnwiu,  James,  95,  110. 
Milan,  250,  263. 
Miller,  Joaquin,  285. 
Miscellanies,  Philosophical,  97. 
Mott.M.  J.,41. 

NEW  YORK,  251,  254,  256,  272. 

Norllioff,  Charles,  130. 

N..rt,,n  Andrews,  22,  54,  96,  98, 102, 

104,  105. 
Noyes's  "American  Socialisms,"  152. 

"  OLD  AND  NEW  "  (Magazine),  151. 
Osgood,  &iuuel,  97. 


PALFREY,  J.  G..  41. 
Palisse,  J.  M.,  194. 
Parker,  Theodore,  3,  53,  55,  56, 100, 

111,  119,  129,  i64,  194,  203,  229, 

257. 

Parkman,  John,  8. 
Peabody,  A.  P.,  96. 
Peabody,E.  P.,55,  167,  233. 
Peirce,  John,  41. 
Penn  Club,  278. 
Phalanstery,  the,  189. 
Phalanx,  the,  167.  176. 
Pickering,  John,  30. 
Pickering,  Timothy,  30. 
Pierpont,  John,  41. 
Pnitt,  Minot,  115,  164,  173. 
"  Present,  The,"  166. 
Press  American,  The,  291. 
"  Putnam's  Magazine,"  212. 

REBELLION  (College),  10,  16. 

"  Register,  Christian,  The ''  94,  197. 

Reid,  W.,  301. 

Ripley,  Augusta  L.,  243,  254,  255, 

296,  299,  301. 
Ripley,  Carmela,  247,  250,  251,  252, 

SM 

Ripley,  Franklin,  1,  237,  295. 

Ripley,  George.  Birth,  1 ;  school,  6, 
7  ;  college',  8,  9  ;  teaching  14,  16, 
16  ;  divinity  school,  20, 21 ;  settle 
ment,  39  ;  marriage,  41 ;  personal 
appearance,  45 ;  preaching,  47, 
63 ;  Transcendental  club,  56 ;  min 
istry.  61,  et  ffq. ;  "  Discourses," 
97 ;  Specimens  of  Foreign  Stand 
ard  Literature,"  97  ;  controversy, 
100  ;  "  Dial,  The,''  105, 106  ;  Brook 
Farm,  108,  et.  sty.;  Brownson's 
description  of ,  121 ;  idea  of  Brook 
Kami,  127,  175  ;  occupations 
there,  127  ;  letters  on,  143,  147 ; 
"  Harbinger,  The,"  176, 185 :  char 
acter.  151,  164,  165,  192,- 

:  ,ith  in  association,  I1.*:;. -JTl', 
273  ;  sells  his  library,  195  ;  moves 
to  Flatbush,  L.  I.,  195  :  early  work 
on  "  The  Tribune,1'  196, 200,  202 ; 
.  197  ;  after  Brook  Farm,  199 ; 
literature,  201;  removes  to  New 
York,  2"2  :  literary  work,  202,206, 
211 ;  earnings,  203 ;  humanity, 
208  ;  literary  spirit,  210,  286,  287  ; 
"Harper's  Ma-a/ine."  215,  216: 
Cyclopaedia,  218 ;  a  Books  and 
Men,"  224  ;  New  York  conven 
tion,  174  :  the  man  of  letters,  226, 
244,  259, 283 ;  religious  faith,  227, 
231,  235,  242,  258,  267  276,  1:98, 
299  ;  death  of  his  wife,  239  ;  Eu- 


INDEX. 


321 


rope,  246, 257, 258  ;  kindness,  256 
activity,  261;  philosophy,  276. 
282  ;  LL.  D.,  277  ,  industry,  255; 
261,  272,  284 ;  love  of  truth,  285  : 
the  critic,  287,  292 ;  modesty, 289; 
literary  qualities,  285,  286,  288. 
292,  296;  aims,  294;  training, 
293  ;  habits,  295,  297  ;  illness, 
297;  last  work,  298;  death,  299; 
funeral,  300  ;  tributes,  301,  304. 

Ripley,  Jerome,  2. 

Ripley,  Marianne,  1,  115,  240,  245, 
247,  252,  257,  295. 

Ripley,  Sophia  W.,  110,  127,  128, 
164, 165,  195, 199,  236-239. 

Robinson,  John  P.,  19. 

Robinson,  Mrs.  (Talvi),  249. 

"  Romance,  Blithedale,"  153 

Rome,  264. 

Russell,  George  R.,  194. 

Rykman,  176. 

SAND,  GEORGE,  213. 

Schelling,  96. 

Schleiermacher,  229. 

Semler,   "  Geschichte    der    Social- 

ismus,"  152. 
Semmering  Pass,  263. 
Sensationalism,  98. 
Smith,  Gerrit,  209. 
Socialism,  272,  273. 
Spencer,  Herbert,  287 
Spinoza,  98, 102,  104. 
Spiritualism,  228. 


Stearns,  Samuel  II.,  19. 
Stetson,  C.,41. 
Stone,  T.  T.,55. 
Story,  W.  W.,  176,  1V7. 
Sumner,  Charles,  214. 
Swedenborg,  119. 
Switzerland.  248. 

TAYLOR,  BAYARD,  212,  279. 
Thatcher,  28. 
Thayer.  A.  W.,  263. 
Tourgee,  A.  W.,  287. 
Transcendentalism,  48,   54,  55",   84, 

103. 
"  Tribune,  The,"  255,  274,  277,  284. 

Trieste,  263. 
Tyndall,  John,  294. 

UNTTARIANISM,  42. 
Upham,  C.  W.,29,30 

WALKER,  JAMES,  41,  44,  96,  129 
Walsh,  Mike,  130 
War,  Franco-Prussian,  272. 
Ware,  Henry,  22,  38. 
Ware,  Henr>,  Jr.,  41 
White,  D.  A.,  30. 
Whittier,  J.  G.,  176,  177 
Williams,  Roger,  213. 

YALE  COLLEGE,  5. 
Youmans,  E.  L.,  294. 
Young,  Alexander,  26,  38,  41 


American  jften  of  betters, 

EDITED  BY 

CHARLES   DUDLEY  WARNER. 


A  series  of  biographies  of  distinguished  Amer 
ican  authors,  having  all  the  special  interest  of 
biography,  and  the  larger  interest  and  value  of 
illustrating  the  different  phases  of  American  liter 
ature,  the  social,  political,  and  moral  influences 
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